


Separate, Integrate

by loveatthirdsight



Category: Gintama
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dreams, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gintama manga spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Slice of Life, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveatthirdsight/pseuds/loveatthirdsight
Summary: After returning to Edo, and saving the world once again, Gintoki finds out that he still has to tie up some loose ends. Post-canon.
Relationships: Sakata Gintoki/Tsukuyo
Comments: 132
Kudos: 123





	1. phantom bruises

**Author's Note:**

> After I finished writing "City of Dreams", I got into a bit of a writer's block. It was pretty difficult to get back into the groove of writing after churning out 4,000+ word chapters per week for four months straight, but eventually I got out of it and was able to create a new story for my wonderful readers. 
> 
> This story takes place post-canon, and deals with some heavy subjects. There will be some side ships mentioned now and then. 
> 
> A thank you to Luis who pulled me out of my writer's block with our discussions about Gintama, and another thank you to CeeJay who I commissioned art from for this story. We will be able to see it at the bottom of the last chapter. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think about it. The feedback will determine how quickly I can post new updates to this story.

* * *

_Your absence has gone through me_   
_Like thread through a needle._   
_Everything I do is stitched with its color._

\- " **Separation** ", W.S. Merwin

The first time he's alone with her, they're at a graveyard. It's not exactly memorable, or even a comfortable encounter for either of the two, but this is the story of a lost samurai and kunoichi, not a fairy tale princess whose Prince Charming is there to whisk her away to some Happily Ever After destination. He wouldn't know what that would entail for a person like her, anyways. Would she even want that kind of thing?

For a minute, he just watches the scene unfold with a detached eye. It's been a while since they've met each other face to face ever since the cabaret party at Snack Smile, and he's trying to settle down in Edo again. The two years of wandering all around rural Japan were not unlike the days where he'd been a nomad, traveling alongside Shoyou-sensei's every whim and fancy, right before his teacher had built a school.

He knows who's lying under that particular grave, and his stare is impassive when she looks up, her instincts just as honed as his.

She blinks, once or twice before there's a strange type of smile curling up at the corner of her lips - a kind of smile that spoke of a confidence that wasn't there the last time he'd seen her two years ago. He can't put a finger on exactly why he finds it particularly charming, but he returns it, all the same.

"Gintoki," she greets him, a bit more cheerful. "I wouldn't expect you to be here, of all places."

He shoves his hands into his pockets. "I was here to clean somebody's grave. Got finished earlier than I expected, so I took a walk."

The truth is more complicated than that.

Sure, maybe his kids have started to wear their old clothes again, but the fact is, they're relying on him a lot less than they used to. He's getting a bit tired of walking into an empty house, and the momentary pleasures of his daily habit of pachinko isn't hitting the serotonin highs as it used to. The rest of the time, he's wandering around town, because he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts for too long.

Is this what two years of living like a monk has turned him into? he muses. His train of thought is promptly cut off when he sees her mouth slanting into a concerned frown.

"I'm sorry to hear about that," she says.

"'s alright," he says, shrugging. He doesn't want to admit that he's guilty for yet another death. "Was a while ago. Happens, y'know. What brings you here?"

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "I had to replant the orchids. Shishou mentioned he really liked them once, but um, I never was all that good with taking care of plants... I mean it's not like I had much experience in that kinda thing, anyway."

Once upon a time, Shoyou-sensei had given him and the boys a class project, and the task had been to plant a green onion. Needless to say, they'd argued for days over how much to water the poor plant until a week had passed with nothing to show for it, not even a single sprout.

"I'm sure he'd like it. Though in my opinion, you're more used to destroying things, so I'd doubt if he expected anything different."

He's expecting a kunai to his forehead, but to his surprise, she just laughs - beautiful and clear. It sounds like a bell.

"So you must be a gardening expert. Well, with that shaggy forest of yours growing on your head... "

"Hey! Don't be like that! I'm saving up for a Brazilian blowout, just you wait. When Gin-san has straight hair, watch out, world! They won't know what hit them!"

"And who is 'they', in question?" she inquires gingerly.

"Girls, of course!"

The corner of her mouth lifts, enough for him to notice. "Oh? Has the shonen hero finally come to his hometown to settle down?"

"Not really," he retorts. He's at least self-aware to know that there's a zero chance in hell that's happening. But his hair deserved defending.

"Didn't think you were interested in that kind of thing, anyway," she laughs, and something clenches uncomfortably in his stomach.

* * *

It was Shoyou-sensei who used to insist on holding picnics when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and Gintoki would have slept for most of it next to him while the other children were preoccupied with their usual games of kick-the-can and spinning tops. Shoyou would have taken out paper and a brush, preferring to compose poetry, and Gintoki supposed this had made a strong impression later on with both Katsura and Takasugi, especially as they entered adolescence.

This is what he's dreaming about until there are footsteps approaching him.

Gintoki wasn't surprised when the first thing he registered as he blinked his eyes blearily, was the cold hard concrete ground on which his cheek rested on.

No one bothers him when he drinks these days. Maybe that's why he's stuck onto this thinking abyss, where he peers into the depths of memory like a dilapidated attic, where things haven't been dusted for ages.

The clinging of the jail cell keys didn't help his hangover any.

Still, a handsome officer unlocked the door anyway, his clear blue eyes remaining neutral at the situation. As usual, a cigarette was stuck in his mouth with the familiar orange tip lit up, the flicker of his lighter having been there moments before.

Hijikata pulls up next to him. It's not the first time they've had this conversation, but it doesn't make it comfortable for either of them.

"Still smoking those cancer sticks?" Gintoki asks wryly, before pulling himself together and standing up. His head was throbbing.

He lights up a cigarette, and takes a drag, all before he addresses him. "Yorozuya," he said, his voice more tired than usual. "This is the fourth time this month."

"I hadn't noticed, Oogushi-kun," Gintoki replied blithely. "Now, if you would excuse me - "

"Wait."

The newly promoted Commander of the Shinsengumi takes another drag, slowly before staring at him long and hard. Gintoki avoids his eyes, anything to stop him from dissecting the situation.

"Lunch?" he asks while pushing the key into Gintoki's handcuffs, releasing the latch. "My treat," he says, while taking the cigarette from his mouth.

Well, if he put it that way...

"Fine."

* * *

The day Takasugi died in his arms, Gintoki had stared at the sky once his friend had closed both his eyes, and saw the pine trees in the distance.

He held his friend after a minute or two of watching Takasugi passing into the void. Something in him had shattered permanently, and yet the outside of him remained fairly intact.

It wasn't the first time anyone had died in his arms. He'd been down that road enough times to familiarize himself with the soundless bitterness of heartache, of regret that would settle into his very bones.

But this time, it hurt him, and he knew it would continue to profoundly hurt him for a long time. So he'd sat there, right until it was too dangerous for him to stay in the Terminal and the rubble had started to crumble underneath his feet.

He remembers thinking at the time, _isn't this way it always goes?_

For a while, the shock was simply too much for his system to comprehend, and Gintoki had chosen to compartmentalize all of those memories into neat little boxes inside his head out of pure necessity. Then months seeped by, the depression hit him like a train, and it began to proliferate through his dreams.

He was okay, until he wasn't.

At first he was confused. Shouldn't he be used to it, by now? He was a friend of death, and had made his peace with its everlasting presence in his life. Some people died, and he didn't, and that was that. He had his family to be with and everything on paper was technically perfect.

Regardless, it wasn't like this wave of apathy was anything new. Sakata Gintoki was used to it. If guilt and shame were people, he would have been embraced them like an everlasting fog. Some things never end, he thinks.

Still, he manages the muster the energy needed to put on a show. You're fine, he thinks. In a minute, he'll think of something to snark at Hijikata, probably an insult or two about his dog food of choice. A cheeky grin that doesn't quite manage to reach his dead fish-eyes, or so they say. Hide, because at the core of it, he's a fundamentally dishonest person.

It's better that way.

Safer.

He doesn't realize that he hasn't been paying attention for the last five minutes when Hijikata hasn't said anything to him, choosing instead to keep on smoking like a chimney. As always, the officer's order is a grotesque caricature of food - a bowl of rice, topped with an obscene amount of mayonnaise. He passes Gintoki's own meal with a careful look, as if he's about to collapse from what - stress? Heartbreak?

"What?" Gintoki finally bites back.

"Nothing," Hijikata says, but the two of them are intelligent enough to read each other, enough to know that there's an ulterior motive or underlying issue to warrant this unexpected kindness. Whether or not they'll ever talk about it, it's a fact that the Shinsengumi owes Gintoki one too many favors. And if Gintoki was being honest, he owed them more than a few, too.

Hijikata stubs his cigarette on the nearby ashtray and says - in a voice that's deliberately neutral - "I've started talking to someone. Um. You know - a professional. New era, new me, I guess."

"Are you saying I need help?" Gintoki asks, his voice just as flat.

"No. I'm saying that _I_ did. Still do." Hijikata pulls out another cigarette from a Marlboro box. "Especially when it came to her." He lights it up, waiting for the flame to turn the tip orange before lowering his lighter. "It helps, you know. To sort of get your thoughts out there, in the open."

The careful emphasis on "her" lets Gintoki know exactly and who he is referring to, and his immediate thought is: _Fuck_.

He just had to bring her up, and something in Gintoki's gut twists violently, eradicating any semblance of his appetite. He'd been there on the rooftop of that hospital years ago, crunching on the same spicy crackers - the few that _she_ hadn't managed to touch.

"I see."

Hijikata pulls out his wallet; he fishes out a card, and slides it across the counter. Gintoki picks it up, knowing he's not even going to take a second look. Ever.

To say he blames himself for what happened would be like putting a plaster over the cracks of a fissure on the edge of a canyon. No amount of talking is going to help that.

Still, he's a gentlemen, not an asshole.

"I'll think about it. As long as you don't stage some sort of pathetic intervention, Oogushi-kun~ "

"Like hell I will," Hijikata said, tapping the ash away on an nearby tray. "I'm nice, but not _that_ nice. If you wanna drown in your own puke, you'd be doing all of us a big favor."

Without another word Gintoki tucks the card in the folds of his yukata, and Hijikata thankfully doesn't press the subject any further. He digs into his food, and Gintoki does the same.

After two minutes of this, Hijikata takes a generous swig of his tea to wash it down. "By the way, someone's bailed you out every time you've been arrested, so you won't have to pay the fee for disorderly conduct. Though truth be told, I don't know how the hell you managed to sucker someone into doing it."

Gintoki ignores the easy lob - the Shinsengumi's First Captain was pretty much responsible for the vast majority of disorderly conduct, in his opinion - and focuses on the more pressing matter. "Who was it?"

Hijikata sets down his cup. "That woman with a scar from Yoshiwara. Why, did you knock her up?"

Gintoki lobs his chopsticks at the former Vice Commander, hitting him squarely in the forehead - enough to hurt. The reaction is instantaneous.

"You wanna go, asshole?!" Hijikata cracks his knuckles, after settling his own utensils down.

"After that disgrace to all of humanity by creating that dog food of yours? Hell yeah I'll go all day, mayo freak!"

When Hijikata starts bitching about his beloved adzuki beans, Gintoki can pretend that things are back to normal.

* * *

"D'ya ever miss your old man?" Gintoki once asked Takasugi, back when they were fourteen, waiting for the sun to rise up on New Years' Day. It'd been a year or so before Shoyou's school would burn down. They'd sat on the rooftop, wrapped in Shoyou's old haori, but their bodies remained somewhat cold - so they had ended up huddling together for warmth. It was a matter of pragmatism rather than any genuine extension of affection, and the darkness was making the two of them yawn. Katsura had already gone to bed, waving his white flag of defeat once they'd caught him snoring with his eyes open three times.

"Hell no," Takasugi said, and was rubbing his eyes. "Do you?"

"Dunno," Gintoki said. "Never had one. I guess Shoyou-sensei was really the only dad I ever knew."

Takasugi had given him a thoughtful look back then, somewhat subdued by sleepiness and the darkness of the night. The very faint glow of the oil lantern wasn't enough for anyone to see most of Gintoki's expression at the time, but it was bright enough for him to remember Takasugi's slightly sympathetic smile, his eyes softened by the rare moment of shared vulnerability.

He could count on one hand the few times he'd seen his friend with such an expression.

"You're not missing out on anything," Takasugi said, after a minute or two. "Trust me on this."

Gintoki had just shrugged, but his classmate had understood enough to know that he said the right thing. And even though Gintoki's eyes had closed for a moment, the brisk shake on his shoulder had been enough for him to catch the first few rays of the sun. He'd even been nice enough to refrain from shouting in Gintoki's ear, unlike their usual mornings filled with kendo practice.

"Happy New Years', asshole. Wake up, already."

* * *

The real reason why Gintoki never kept too much cash on handy in the past was because he had a bad habit of spiraling into a cycle of chronic alcohol abuse, having been down that path a few times, and then some. If he tips into that hole, then it'll be too much work to crawl out. And at this point, it's not so much pathetic as it is a pain in the ass, not to mention that at thirty, it's getting more and more obvious that his liver functions aren't handling the booze as well as it used to.

But lately, in order to keep his head from going in the direction that it wants to go to these days, he either works. Or drinks. Both are good for numbing everything, and he figures that's the way it's got to be for a few months until his head has compartmentalized everything, and he can get to a place where the voice inside his head stops telling him that he ought to die in a ditch or something along those lines for saving the world, yet again.

He's done this before.

He's fine.

It's the damn ghosts who keep popping up at night, who have no right to be there.

Back in his early twenties, it'd been all dark in his dreams; and Shoyou used to kneel with his corpse crumpled at Gintoki's feet while the executioner himself stood there, silent, unable to take another step forward or backwards. His teacher wouldn't say anything except for "Thank you," again, and again, and again, until Gintoki would eventually wake up with damp cheeks and a pressure on his chest so heavy he could barely breathe.

This time, though, someone shows up, unwanted and in his opinion, shouldn't have been there in the first place.

"You know," Takasugi says, "You're a lot more pathetic than I thought, and that's saying something, coming from me."

"Shut up," Gintoki replies back. "You're just a damn ghost. What do you know?"

The phantom grins anyway, and they sit on the boat in this dreamland. Takasugi just smokes while Gintoki looks at the abyss, right into the water, and wonders if he'll wake up if he jumps over the edge.

* * *

"I'm your alter ego," Takasugi says a week later, after Gintoki has hammered a weeks' worth of tiles on a rooftop of a nearby shop, not too far from Otose's Snack House. "That's why I keep popping up. I guess your subconscious is trying to tell you something."

He's dressed in his old Kiheitai uniform.

"Well, beat it," Gintoki snaps, and though he refuses to look at himself, he feels the weight of his wrist shields clamped around him, heavy and repressive. He's worn the outfit of the Shiroyasha long enough to know that he's covered in bloodstains. "You're not telling me anything I don't know already."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's doing a shitty job at fulfilling his role as a protector. He's tried to the atone for the sins of his past, by taking baby steps. For every classmate of Shoka Sonjuku that he couldn't shield in time, for every death near his hands whether by accident or not, he tries to make up for it, one by one.

Mathematically and logistically, Katsura could point out how ridiculous this was. Who was there to keep count of the dead corpses on the battlefield, back in the second Joui war when they were all kids playing war? He even knows of course, back when he was even smaller with no conception of words and language, there must have been an instinct to survive that involved more than a few lives at stake.

"Doesn't fucking matter," Gintoki says to no one in particular, and now the two of them are standing on the edge of the shore, where Takasugi is lighting up a cannon to sink one of their own warships in order to prevent the enemy from capturing it. "I'm trying my best, aren't I?"

"You're going mad," his friend cackles, and the explosion is loud enough to where Gintoki wakes up, violently gasping for air, only to find Sadaharu the only living soul in the apartment.

* * *

"Mucchi wants me to come work for her in space," Kagura says conversationally, over the last pudding in the refrigerator. "She says there are things she wants to teach me, Yato to Yato."

"Who?" Gintoki asks again.

"Mutsu. You know, Sakamoto's vice captain?"

"Oh, right, that scary bitch with the straw hat."

Kagura hits him with a playful slap, which hurts of course. "Gin-chan, that's not true at all! She's actually quite nice, yes? I was on the phone with her yesterday."

"... And?"

"I haven't decided, yet. But the offer is still on the table."

Gintoki remembers being sixteen, too. Raring to go out, making his own mark on the world. He takes a careful sip of his strawberry milk (the many things he'd missed on his two years' absence from Edo) and swallows. She's grown up a lot, actually. Even with her old hairstyle, the little things betray her burdgeoning adolescence. Small tubes of clear lipgloss, rolling around. Romance mangas, dog earred and left on the coffee table. The crumpled up balls of used sheet masks, lazily peeled off after it served its purpose. They're starting to clutter the closet in his room.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because I like it here," Kagura says. The look in her eyes says otherwise, and for once Gintoki doesn't care to analyze it.

She's got the wanderlust again.

Everyone is looking at him in different ways, as if they're not sure what to expect from him. He's the same guy, he'd like to say, but no one believes him. Two years isn't a long time in the scheme of life, but it's long enough for everyone to change in ways he doesn't quite expect.

* * *

On a sultry night in the pleasure district, Tsukuyo finds him sitting under the canopy of a dango stand, chewing on a stick. They always seem to find each other - it was just a matter of time. He supposes it's because the city is so small that inevitably someone is going to spot its savior.

"Yo," he says. "Heard you bailed me from my fuck-ups."

Tsukuyo scowls. "I told him not to tell ya."

"Oh, is this one of these cop things? Secret service stuff where you guys share intel on the citizens of your respective cities?"

"It ain't that," she scoffs, but finally takes a seat across from him. "It's just that Kagura and Shinpachi are worried about ya especially when you're in trouble, and they know that I got the most money outta all yer friends. I'm basically a glorified rich aunt," she says, crossing her legs. "They care about ya. That's all."

"Nice to see I have a sugar mommy," Gintoki remarks, and is promptly rewarded with a kunai to his forehead.

"You are seriously the worst!" she complains, a little red around the ears. "I've got half a mind myself to cage ya."

"So, how do you want me to work this one off?" he asks, removing the knife from his skin. It doesn't even hurt that much, really. "I could be your slave for a day, or whatever twisted sexual fantasies you might have... "

" _Gintoki_!" She's so taken aback with his audacity to push her boundaries that she's rendered speechless. It never fails to entertain him; some things haven't changed between them, even from the first time he's met her. Her nose curls up in an expression of disgust. "Don't flatter yourself, you beast."

Her eyes soften after he lifts an eyebrow. "Just come every other Monday," she says. "I could use some extra help here now and then."

"Okay," he says, and polishes the rest of his confectionery. "So, next Monday, then?"

She nods. "Yeah."

\- tbc 


	2. the prettiest girl in Yoshiwara (is a death god courtesan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my friend Luis - I hope you have a great day! 
> 
> I have to say, "unreliable narrator" as a tag doesn't really suit this story as much as "somewhat unreliable narrator" but one just sounds a bit snazzier than the other. So the original tag is just going to stay there for now. LOL

Sometimes it's paying a visit to a customer who hasn't paid the bill in a long while after a string of broken promises. And sometimes, it's just Gintoki filling in a shift for a Hyakka member who wants to take a night off. Either way, he complains all the way through about it when he comes down every other Monday - and Tsukuyo only gives him that nostalgic look that he can't, for the life of him, figure out what it means.

For fun this week, he flirts with some of the other courtesans who might be on shift, and they playfully bat away his advances.

"Oh, savior of Yoshiwara, I'm so flattered," one giggles, bubbly with the attention. "But really, I can't, I just can't - "

He suspects that her rebuttal may or may not have something to do with his perm. The other reason may or may not be the woman keeping a close eye on him, and he's promptly rewarded with a swift kick to his head.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" she snarls, glaring at Gintoki after picking him up by the collar of his haori. "We're here to _patrol_ , not to harass these women on a job."

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm popular with the ladies," he says easily, and she snorts while letting him go.

"Popular, my ass," she says, and lights up her _kiseru_. "I bet the courtesans could tell you were easy bait 'cause they knew you couldn't get any action in real life."

At his glare, she just smirks. "Oh, did I hit a nerve? Tell me - "

"You're wrong!" he defends himself. His manhood is on the line, dammit! "In fact, I was so popular back in the day that I'd get tributes in my name."

This part was actually true. He'd been shameless about it once, back when the tide of war still favored the rebels and it still wasn't a completely hopeless cause. Sakata Gintoki, is _the_ man, Tatsuma would say, while making him chug down as many flasks of booze in under a minute with a captive audience hanging onto his every word.

She's amused, rather than impressed. "You know they just do that to get ya even more drunk, and then hook ya into ordering drinks on the house?" There's a wry grin flashing his way that causes something in his chest to ache, but he ignores it for the time being. "It's been known ta happen once or twice."

"I can hold my drink," he insists.

"Oh?"

* * *

"I don't actually know this bar," she admits as they both slide into a booth underneath the soft sheen of the neon lights. It's not an unpopular or popular bar, but it's cheap, and sometimes when his feet leads him to the red light district, he can spend a few hours here before departing for home.

"Thought you knew every place in this joint," he says, and she rolls her eyes while lighting her _kiseru_. The smell of tobacco reminds him of a memory of long, long ago.

_Whether it's spring or winter, once in a while I like being next to you like this and blowin' poison gas in your face. That's enough to make me happy._

Tsukuyo's voice pulls him out of his head. "They keep buildin' new ones everyday," she says, shrugging. "What they don't know is that the Yoshiwara is actually one of the most competitive places to open a business. It's becoming Edo's playground, or so they say."

The unexpected economic boom after the country turned into a republic was something no one had expected. Even the Yorozuya had been picking up more jobs than ever before, meaning that even Gintoki was kept busy for once.

She orders drinks - a plum _umeshou_ for her, and some nice, probably bargain-basement sake for him. He can easily see the lose-lose situation looming ahead, but he's pretty sure that it's going on her tab, which is the more important thing for the moment. In fact, he's more worried about the bar owner than himself, which probably says something about him that he doesn't particularly care to analyze. He's about to warn the man himself before something more interesting turns up.

Another customer - probably in his forties, dressed in one of the tackiest outfits Gintoki has ever seen - had dropped by, sitting next to Tsukuyo. There's a moment when he scopes out the two of them, promptly disregards Gintoki with the interest of a used tissue, and turns to the Death God Courtesan.

"Yo. How's it goin'?" he asks, and it's not exactly endearing. Tsukuyo gives him the cool once-over, to assess if he's a danger to the other occupants of the bar. When she deems him as mostly harmless, her reply is polite, but frosty: "Fine, I guess."

"You live around here?" the meathead asks, and here Gintoki almost snorts in derision. This has _got_ to be one of the most pathetic ways to pick up a woman, but he's somewhat curious to see how it plays out. The curl of a smirk on her lips is promising.

"Yeah, I do," she said, tapping her kiseru on a nearby ashtray.

"Never seen you around here before."

She's biting back a laugh. "Guess yer not too observant."

Meathead chuckles, probably a little sloshed by now. "You're funny. Can I buy you a drink?"

 _Careful with that, mister_ , Gintoki thinks. _She'll dislocate your collarbone, then hurl you into the nearest vending machine, and we call that Monday._

Now Tsukuyo is a little more firm with her words, but her hand surreptiously reaches for her tantou swords, kept on her back. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

The customer's face flushes. "You're with this guy, then?"

Gintoki gives him a friendly wave and ignores the accusation, preferring to plead the fifth. "Hey, I'm Yorozuya. I do odd jobs for a living." Might as well throw it out there - he'd picked up customers in stranger ways. "I even have a business card - "

Sloshy Guy is not having it. "Whatever."

 _Rude_ , Gintoki thinks. But as soon as he's about to retort, Sloshy Guy opens his mouth again, his eyes back on Tsukuyo. "So c'mon, have a drink with me - what d'ya like drinking?"

"I said no thanks."

"You're serious. _This_ guy?"

This isn't Kabuki-chou, where Gintoki could throw out unruly customers and no one would bat an eye. Unfortunately, this isn't his turf, which is why he just settles for a lifted eyebrow in the meantime.

"If you really have _that_ much of an objection to his hair, I wouldn't blame ya," Tsukuyo says good-naturedly, and now there's a gleam of calculation in her eyes when she catches Gintoki glaring at her. "But even with that in mind, I'm still not interested, so why don't ya go somewhere else? Plenty of beautiful ladies here to go around, ya know."

The change of tactics causes Gintoki to blink; he's perplexed. Negotiating with losers who must've been born at the bottom of the barrel wasn't something he'd ever thought her doing. She's developed a strange sort of patience... but for what?

He doesn't have much time to ponder on it, though. Disgruntled, the customer still is at it.

"Can't believe this guy is your boyfriend."

Before anyone else can react, there's a glass ashtray that shatters the back of the customer's head. Topped off with a punch from Gintoki's fist, it's enough to slam the meathead into the ground, but he still has enough time to mourn the loss of his free drink as soon as his hand draws blood.

"As if I'd be crazy enough to date this drunk terminator!" he says, insulted, while kicking the patron out of the front door, already unconscious. He's gotta have revenge for Tsukuyo's quip on his hair; after all, his defining characteristic has been slandered all too often! "You think seven hundred and four chapters in, I'd be entitled to a sweet, nice housewife to raise my kids at the end of this series, but no! The gorilla told me I gotta live with my shitty kids until I reach forty or something!"

" _THAT'S YOUR ISSUE WITH THE ENDING?!_ "

He can already tell that Tsukuyo's pissed off. Mission accomplished. 

Well, it's not like the situation is going to get any better. He tosses the bartender a few bills and whatever coins he found under the _gachapon_ vending machine the other day.

"C'mon, let's bounce. Obviously, this joint is a cesspool," he says; she sighs, and apologizes to the bartender and other customers staring at the two of them, right before exiting the premises. He's even considerate enough to roll the meathead away from the entrance so that nobody is going to trip over him in the dark.

It's hard to tell what she's thinking at the moment, but to him, it's sort of a depressing situation that illuminates something that he's been in denial of for a long time.

Of course she's the sorta shitty woman who attracts creeps and losers. He's just known her for so long that he couldn't put two plus two together. On the outside, she's a dime piece to any asshole with a pair of working eyes, but on the inside, he just sees a regular workaholic who (still) has to learn how to play hooky.

Still, she seems relieved to be out of the situation, and they're walking aimlessly in the red light district with no thought of where to go next. All he knows is that he sure doesn't want to see someone ruining another drink of his.

"Thanks for fendin' off my admirers," she jokes, but it falls flat. The whole incident has given him a sour taste for the evening, and he's not even sure why.

"Oi. How often does that kinda thing happen?" he asks, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"What do ya mean?"

"Creeps hitting on you."

"Oh, I've lost track by now," she said, shrugging. "I used ta toss them out but now I just kinda see it as a bit of harmless fun. As long as they don't put a hand on me, they usually leave me alone after a while."

"That's disgusting."

"Hey, well, that's the kinda place Yoshiwara's for, right?" Tsukuyo takes a puff from her _kiseru_ , blowing out smoke from the side of her mouth. "Here, you can have the unattainable, if ya can afford it."

There's a wistful, yet fond look for him when he meets her eyes, and for a moment, he wonders who the hell she's talking about.

* * *

They end up at Hinowa's shop, at the balcony of the second floor where the moon shines brightly in the _zashiki_ room. She's having a smoke, while he's pouring himself a drink.

He's nice enough to offer her one at the risk of his own life, but thankfully, she declines. "Too much excitement in one night for me," she explains, and he can't exactly pretend he's not relieved. There's a brazier nearby, the coals still red hot, and she fixes herself a cup of hot tea instead.

With her hair down, it's a clear sign of work being over. She looks a bit happier overall. He thinks she's the kind of person to work even on her deathbed, and he's not sure whether that's freakish, or comforting in its own way. Some things will never change, and he likes that sort of consistency in a forever changing world. Two years isn't a huge chunk of time in the span of a life, but it's not exactly nothing, either.

All anyone wants from him is to be happy, but why can't he manage it? Something's missing, and he can't figure out what it is.

In the midst of their conversation - of catching up on news about the kids, upcoming restorations to Yoshiwara, or even a debate of which shojo manga happens to be _Shueisha's_ best - she catches him frowning.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Tsukuyo asks, leaning against a wall. Half of her face is obscured by the shadow, and the other half is illuminated by the moon.

"It's nothing important," he says.

They lapse into another comfortable conversation, this time of whether Seita is ever going to learn his history properly - and she continues to smoke, before her voice trails off, growing quieter, and her replies becoming progressively shorter. Eventually, she closes her eyes while he continues to ramble on about why One Park has the best themes in Shonen Jump, tired after a full day's work, her back leaning against the wall. When he finally notices, he drinks in silence until she falls asleep, her breaths deep and steady.

After a while, he goes to her room - the futon has already been set out by Hinowa, aware of her irregular working hours - picks up the blanket, and drapes it over her carefully, so that she won't wake up. Softly, he makes his way back to Kabuki-chou not too long after.

* * *

The apartment above Otose's Snack House gets its fair share of visitors, but there was one marked absence that he hadn't missed until recently.

"Get the hell out," Gintoki says with a look of boredom, picking his nose while Sacchan falls out of the attic, flustered. It hadn't been dusted in a while, and he'd caught her hanging there from the ceiling. "Does your pizza delivery boy know that you're here?"

"Of course he does!" the kunoichi puffs out, miffed, and pulls herself from the ground. "I just wanted to make sure of certain things, that's all!"

Gintoki isn't even sure what the hell she's on about, but one thing is for sure: That shiny rock resting on her ring finger is one of the most hideous things he's ever seen. He'd heard Tae's envious mutterings about it, that it wasn't quite fair that such a vulgar woman is the first in their group to get ahead of the rest of them. But then again, she always had a bit of a competitive streak.

"Well, beat it," he says. "Or do I have to run a truck over you again so that you get the message?"

"Oh, Gin-san," she purrs. "Always the sadist in you. I know there was a good reason why I was in love with you for years~ "

"Shut up and get to the point," he interrupts her.

"Hmmph." She pushes her glasses up, and plops herself on the couch. "So impatient, tsk tsk."

She waggles a finger, as if to scold him, a grown ass adult, like a little boy. In a matter of seconds, she's transformed from adoring ex-stalker to somebody's mother-in-law.

There's an authoritative air in her voice that makes him think she's been a teacher's pet once, maybe in a past life. He's not sure why this is jarring with this previous image he's had of Edo's number one assassin, but hey, stranger things have happened.

"You know, when I gave Tsukki my blessing to die between _someone's_ legs a while ago, I fully expected her to do absolutely nothing about it." There's a crafty glint in Sarutobi's eyes that Gintoki is not interested in dissecting at the moment. "But as for you... You're the one that's eventually supposed to make a move, dammit! You think I'd hand you over to some random wench? After 699 chapters, three movies, and a friggin' time skip?"

"What delusional nonsense are you talking about?"

She whips open Volume 55, to chapter 493. "This part, okay! _When there's a woman I really want to make a move on, I can't do it like I normally do_. We're not in the Sazae-san format anymore, ya know! People change!"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Gintoki says bluntly. "Do you expect me to remember everything that happens in a manga series with over seven hundred chapters?"

Sacchan sighs deeply, and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I know you're not this stupid. Tell me you're just being dumb on purpose."

"I _am_ that stupid for letting you stay in my house for this long," Gintoki agrees, and then hurls the ninja fifty feet from his window.

"Congratulations on your engagement," he calls out, spotting her head popping out of the nearest garbage can, gasping for air, and then he slams the window so hard it almost smashes into a million pieces.

* * *

Takasugi comes again like a cat, slinking into his dreams unbidden.

"Didn't expect you to be into whorehouses, Gintoki," he says. His eye is bandaged this time, his purple yukata fluttering in the wind. The butterflies embroidered almost seem like they're moving.

"Wasn't," Gintoki replies.

A shivery laugh sends tingles down his spine. "You remember when we first went to Gion? Tatsuma promised to show us a good time."

The raid in Kyoto had gone pretty damn well - so well, in fact, that one of the feudal lords who'd financed the war had allowed the Four Heavenly Kings to do whatever the hell they wanted after they won a battle. They'd been around eighteen at the time - Sakamoto freshly turned nineteen - and still were adjusting to the rhythm of adulthood.

"Don't remind me," Gintoki says, but it's a futile cause.

They're on the boat again. Takasugi places his fingers on the shamisen again as if he's deciding whether to play a delicate tune, before he stops moving them entirely.

"We picked the same courtesan," Takasugi said, smirking. "And she decided on _me_."

"And then you passed out because you were too nervous to do the deed," Gintoki snapped. "So in the end, I was the real winner. _You_ lost."

Now his friend looks at him, a gaze so focused and long that he can feel it pierce into his soul. "Yes, that's right. I did lose," Takasugi says, in a voice so soft that Gintoki doesn't ever remember him using, except the moments when he was clinging on the last vestiges of life, resting in his arms. "Right until the very end."

The smoke from Takasugi's pipe, momentarily placed on the edge of the ashtray, curls into a gray wisp.

"What do you want from me?" Gintoki asks, in a strangled whisper. "Do you want me to say sorry? You know I've been sorry ever since that day."

_Sorry I couldn't protect you. Sorry I broke our promise. Sorry that I had to kill you, right when you were almost on the edge of finding a reason to live again. Sorry I couldn't reach out to you in time._

He might as well choke on his apologies for all the good they did for him. That's why he never says them out loud anymore.

Now Takasugi turns his head, and says, "Wake up, Gintoki."

And he does.

* * *

He lifts the manju buns out of a plastic bag, places them on the grave, and sighs deeply.

It's clean as a whistle. He supposes one of the Kiheitai must have gotten to it before he did. Maybe Matako was up to it?

"Granny, this better work," Gintoki grumbles. "They've been raising the prices in the Eights-Twelves* for the steamed buns. You can't even get a proper snack for a one hundred yen coin anymore!"

"What's supposed to work?"

He tilts his head and sees Tsukuyo, behind him.

Fuck.

"I, uh... "

She blinks, waiting for an answer, and he curses inwardly. He can tell it's her day off - she's wearing a more casual haori draped over her usual black kimono, with the orange maple leaves near the bottom. Not to mention, her hair isn't pinned up today.

"I was just... in the neighborhood," he finishes lamely, and thankfully she doesn't push the subject any further. It's one of the nicer things about her, compared to the rest of the ensemble cast. She minds her own business - most of the time, anyways.

"I see," Tsukuyo says, and now he notices her hand carrying a small watering pot.

He slowly puts two plus two together. "I guess you were doing a bit of gardening."

"Something like that, yeah."

He wonders if she can read the name on the gravestone, and almost wants to cover it with his body before realizing how ridiculous it would've been. Still, it's not like he doesn't have the instinct to pull himself out of this sticky situation.

"Can I see?"

Surprisingly, she's amiable to his question. "Sure."

She turns around and swiftly leads the way.

It's surreal that he eventually ends up in front of Jiraia's grave. It's engraved with his birth name - Tobita Danzou, in gold lettering. Other words are written after it.

Brother.

Teacher.

Loyal retainer.

 _Psychopathic fuck_ , Gintoki adds inwardly, but there's something soft in Tsukuyo's eyes when she kneels down to water the small purple orchid. Enough to stir something deep inside him, something warm and close to...

"Pretty, isn't it?" Tsukuyo's voice interrupts his train of thought. "They don't need that much water. I had ta check out a book in the library, to figure it out at first, but I'm getting the hang of it."

"Not bad," he concedes.

She straightens up after she places the watering can on the ground. "I shouldn't interrupt your stay. I was about to leave, anyways."

He nods, and then a thought occurs to him.

"Hey, Tsukuyo... "

She stops. Turns her head. "Yeah?"

"Do you... do you ever dream about him?"

There's a pause while she considers it. "From time to time, yeah."

\- _tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering about the manju buns, Gintoki is trying to pay respects to Takasugi's ghost, hoping that his spirit won't haunt him anymore.
> 
> Also, yes. In chapter 699, Sacchan does tell Tsukuyo that she has to die between someone's legs, but of course Tsukuyo tells her that she's not going to do that. LOL. In my honest opinion, Sacchan will never stop loving Gintoki - but I think she has a very interesting sense of pragmatism whenever she's choosing not to be delusional (especially during the SA arc + the fleeting moments she shares with Zenzou.) I've always interpreted her as a spunky type of girl who, if she doesn't get what she wants, is still determined to be the happiest of all, and isn't content to wallow away in pity which strikes me as different, compared to many of the other smoking tsunderes of Gintama.
> 
> *Credit to Game_Changer, who's parody of 7-11's I ripped off shamelessly and reused as Eight Twelves. Love ya!


	3. it's okay, you're okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is my (twisted) version of a Final Fantasy ending, and no, I'm not ashamed of admitting that.

Katsura shows up to the apartment with a pack of UNO cards and a basket of expensive looking peaches for the kids.

"Peaches," Gintoki says, deadpan, but Kagura digs in anyway after chirping a delighted, "Thank you!"

He might have complained about her appetite back when she was a snot-nosed brat of fourteen, but now as a full-fledged teenager, it's getting to a ridiculous level where he's happy to take any help he can get. He's already written to Umibouzu, requesting a higher food stipend and an industrial sized rice cooker, to which he'd finally gotten after penning numerous veiled threats of kicking Kagura out of his house.

Not that he'd ever do it, but Umibouzu doesn't know that.

"A gift from the Prime Minister," Katsura says, taking out a penknife and daintily cuts a peach into slices for Shinpachi, still busy sweeping the floor. There's a rerun of a _Ladies Four_ episode on TV, and Kagura, as usual, is transfixed.

"She'd be better off sending us a deluxe pack of sukonbu," Gintoki replies, but sinks his teeth into the fruit all the same. "Tell her I send my regards."

Still, he can tell this is an Important Talk. Normally he would have shooed the kids away, but times are different now. They're older and a bit more grown up, so if Katsura wants to spill some state-sanctioned secrets that they happen to hear, it's all water off his back.

"I came here to talk about Takasugi," Katsura says, and in that moment, there's a shift in the atmosphere. Kagura keeps chewing on her peach, and Shinpachi continues to sweep the floors in that methodical, meticulous way of his, but Gintoki can feel their ears attuned to the conversation already.

Gintoki gives Katsura a tired look. "We gave him a gravestone, Zura. What else is there for us to talk about?"

His friend carefully slices another peach and places the segments on the fruit dish that Shinpachi has courteously laid out on the coffee table. "The Kiheitai found evidence that another Altana being was reincarnated. He looks like the person we used to know when we were boys."

Gintoki thinks he's never going to completely understand the rules of Altana, and every time someone comes up to explain it to him, he just gets more confused.

"Oh."

There's a measured look in Katsura's eyes when he asks the next question. "Do you want to see him?"

Gintoki's answer is short and to the point: "No."

He'd rather this strange alien creature - if it _really_ is Takasugi, in the flesh - seek him out, rather than the other way around. He's not one to beg for forgiveness, and he's not someone to hope for an outcome that can't be guaranteed.

He's too old for that anymore.

There's a pause that lingers too long, with neither of them wanting to break the silence. It goes on for so long that Shinpachi finally sets aside his broom, clears his throat, and says pointedly, "C'mon, Kagura-chan. I heard the latest volume of _Hana no Keiji_ came out a few days ago."

She opens her mouth, but thinks better of it after taking a glance at the three of them, and hops off the couch. "Sure. Let's go, Sadaharu."

Katsura keeps on cutting another peach, and doesn't stop until the sliding door of the apartment shuts behind the two kids and dog in tow. Then he sets down his knife.

"Why?"

Gintoki lets out a deep sigh, and he feels it in his bones.

"Because I don't want to kill him again, even if it's to save the world again."

Another pause, another silence. The gravity of the words weigh down on both of them, but Katsura's expression doesn't change.

"He's only a child."

"I took care of Utsuro as a child, once," Gintoki replies bitterly. "If only I'd killed him back then..."

_Then maybe Takasugi - the human one, not the Altana being - would have been saved._

He rubs his eyes tiredly. "I'm so fucking sick of this. I want to wash my hands of it - whatever he is, I don't want to be near it, and I don't want to care about it anymore. We both know that if Takasugi made better choices in life, he'd be _here_ with us, right now. Maybe he'd be in prison, or maybe he'd be camping in the mountains. I don't know. But at least the person we actually grew up with would be here with us _, alive,_ instead of rotting away under all that rubble."

Life wasn't fair, but at least he didn't fucking wallow. It'd taken Takasugi ten years to figure out something painfully obvious that Gintoki had known the day of Shoyou's execution.

"Gintoki..."

"Look, I just wanted a normal life, okay?"

And suddenly, the anger fills him up with no warning, and his fist clenches in a futile effort of trying to hold it all together, again.

"I just wanted to live with _Sensei,_ and wander around with him for the rest of my life. Was that too much to ask, Zura? _Was it?_ "

It's the first time he's ever talked like this, the first time he's given a voice to his feelings instead of letting them fester inside his heart like a black hole. He doesn't know if he's angry at himself, or the world, or even his teacher for making him believe that things were normal back then. That it was never a demon traveling with another demon, under the false pretense of a master and his student; they'd just been two lone souls with nary else to care for.

Still, with the overwhelming swirl of grief - of what could have been, once upon a time - he takes a deep breath, letting himself calm down. It's in the past, and he can't change anything he's done. Slowly, Katsura shifts and turns to him.

"No, it wasn't. And I'm sorry, Gintoki."

"I wasn't looking for sympathy," he replies, but the residual resentment is enough that his throat tightens, making it hard to breathe normally.

"No. Please don't misunderstand." Katsura's eyes are kind. "I broke my promise to you. _I_ wanted to take the burden off your shoulders, but in the end, it was you who carried it for all of us again."

"Zura..."

"That day on the cliffs, where you had to choose between us and Shoyou-sensei..." Katsura swallows. "What I should have done was to follow you. I shouldn't have left your side - I had no right to. _You_ were always more important than the country. And I'll never forgive myself for doing that to you, for carrying the burden for the three of us."

It's an apology Gintoki never thought he'd ever need. But for once, he takes it.

"It's all right," he says gruffly. "You're the general. You're not supposed to follow your soldiers; you're supposed to lead 'em."

Katsura had been the one to orchestrate the battles. He, too, had shouldered the burden of more than enough deaths on his shoulders.

Gintoki had only followed his plans.

Uncharacteristically, Katsura's eyes are somewhat misty. "Of course, Gintoki."

They'd all been too young back then. They'd all been boys playing at the game of war. Too young, really, to understand the full repercussions of everything, and too innocent to conceive of the horrible tragedy that would lie at the end of the war, and of how the wretchedness of Gintoki's choices would all shift their lives fundamentally until they had no choice but to accept the world changing at a pace they couldn't have ever anticipated.

Katsura slices another peach. "Do you want to know why I put that gravestone in the cemetary, even though there wasn't a body to bury?"

Gintoki considers it. "I have an idea, but go on."

"I wanted to remember him. Not as a tortured soul, but as Shoyou's student. That person who used to get in trouble with you, doodling on Shoyou's scrolls. Or the person who went along with your hijinks when you wanted to play hooky, even when he really didn't want to. That's the sort of person I wanted to remember, after all these years."

"Zura, that's an admirable sentiment, but all you're doing is papering over the fact that he was always an emo edgelord."

"Of course he was," Katsura says gravely, so serious that it almost makes Gintoki laugh. "But that was part of his charm, too. I'll make sure that this reincarnation won't turn out as badly behaved as you two were back then."

The TV is still blaring on, so they finish the rest of the _Ladies Four_ episode, and then Katsura heads off once the credits roll down the screen, leaving Gintoki in probably a better mental state than he's felt in a few months.

* * *

Monday night comes around, and today is another patrol shift. It's almost something he's starting to look forward to, _almost_ being the key word here. His head is getting too gloomy for his personal taste, and he just wants a bit of an escape from his thoughts once in a while.

"Kagura came here the other day," Tsukuyo says while they're walking down a block of teahouses. "The girls and I took her shoppin' for hair pins."

"Oh yeah?" Gintoki asks while picking his nose. "What for?"

"She wanted some advice from us. Apparently a boy asked her out on a date, and she wasn't sure how to respond to him."

Gintoki stops dead in his tracks, and Tsukuyo turns around.

"What?"

"Her father is going to _kill_ me," he groans and puts his hands in his face, completely horrified. "What the hell. You should've told me way sooner!"

"It's already too late," she says, but there's a sly twinkle in her eyes. She takes out a pocket watch from the inner folds of her kimono and checks the time. "By my estimation, her date should've started about an hour ago."

He starts to run in the direction of the elevators. She trips him, and he almost lands on his face, his instincts only saving him from chipping a tooth on the ground.

"You haven't finished your contract yet," she growls. "Where do ya think you're going?"

"What the hell, woman! You don't understand the emergency that I'm going through here!"

"Shut up and calm down," Tsukuyo drawls. "Yer just as bad as Hinowa. Once she found out Seita had a crush on one of the girls in his class, she went completely crazy and started giving him advice to the point where he just completely gave up."

"That's the point! Soon, he'll be on the escalator towards adulthood, and you'll be the one sorry that you pushed him there so early!"

"Relax," she says. "This isn't _Porori-hen_ anymore, and besides, Kagura can protect herself, right?"

"Not emotionally! She thinks these Korean dramas are the end all, be all of love. She'll set her expectations too high and then when some asshole breaks her heart, I'll have to go out there and actually kill him. You know, I had to beg the Bakufu already to expunge my criminal records - there's no way that I can ask them to do it again!"

"I'm telling you, she'll be fine." There it was again, that fond smile that he had no business receiving. "Or... are ya actually just scared of her growin' up, Gintoki?"

He sighs. Trust the damn workaholic to be reasonable and down to earth. "Maybe I am," he admits, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. "I left this old town behind without a kid, and now she's... gone. " He sighs again. "I came back to find a young lady in her place."

Even with reruns of _Be Forever Yorozuya_ showing on the TV now and then, he doesn't think he'll ever get completely used to walking into his apartment with Kagura lying around, reading a ladies magazine while half-heartedly attempting to paint her toenails, or putting on those sheet masks that Otae sometimes gives her when she stops by the beauty shops. Though her innocence is still there, her face grows more slender day by day, giving him a preview of what her mother must have looked like, long ago. It all makes him sad, and proud at the same time.

"I don't think anyone stops growin' up, if ya ask me," Tsukuyo says, and she takes a puff of her _kiseru_. The smoke curls into the night air like a ghost. "Funny enough, how would you feel if it was Shinpachi who was going on a date?"

"He _did_ go on a date once," Gintoki replies, somewhat distracted by the change of topic. "It turned out that she was actually a pickpocketer with cat ears. Episode 34."

"Huh. Guess I'll have ta watch that one soon."

"It's a _great_ episode. One of Patsuan's finest," he says, and pretends that the dimple in her cheek doesn't charm him. At all.

"Now, from my point of view," she says, and her tone is reasonable, "I don't quite understand why you don't personally worry about Shinpachi, compared to Kagura."

"His father was Shimura Ken, not the strongest alien hunter in the galaxy," Gintoki replies matter-of-factly. "And with _that_ in mind - " He turns away, intending to leave.

"Hold yer horses," Tsukuyo said, firmly gripping the back of his haori (where on Earth did she keep that strength?). "If you finish yer shift, I'll tell ya the name of the boy she's going out with."

He scowls. "What kind of bargain is that?"

"A fair one?" Her eyes sparkles in amusement.

"Damn you, woman," he growls, but continues walking stridently, and somehow isn't annoyed when she serenely keeps up with his pace.

The odd paradigm of it is that they're talking about his kids while passing by the sex toy shops with various objects displayed in the windows for sale, a Yoshiwaran dichotomy that secretly amuses him. Tsukuyo is the same way; she is a woman who will fiercely defend the right of the courtesans to make a living the way they know best, but when confronted by her own feminine woes, comes up short on how to gracefully deal with them.

"Gintoki."

"Hm?"

"I know ya probably get this question a lot... but... " Tsukuyo lets out a puff of smoke from the corner of her mouth. "Where were you, for the last two years?"

He stops. "If I tell you that I was trying to save the world, would that be enough for you?"

There's a measured pause as she considers it, tilting her head. "I guess so, yeah." And she doesn't ask him any more questions after that.

* * *

Gintoki spots Soichirou the next afternoon - yes, he knows it's Sougo, and no, he doesn't care - walking along the street with his ears plugged with headphones from whatever shiny new sword the new budget allows the Shinsengumi to waste it on. With a practiced nonchalance, he walks up to the sadist, who upon seeing Gintoki, widens his eyes.

"Morning, danna - "

With a pivot of his feet, Gintoki slams him into a wall, his hand delicately gripping the policeman's pulse point, knowing that Okita was allowing him do so. Still, his grip only allows the barest amount so that the twenty year old can only take shallow breaths.

"It's the _afternoon_ , and Kagura came home at 1 am last night," he growled. "Is this what the cool kids do these days? Benefits with friends?"

Okita, to his credit, doesn't flinch, but there's a trickle of blood running down his forehead. "It's the other way around, Danna."

"Whatever. Is that what's happening here? Because if it is, you'd better expect Gin-san to teach the real meaning of sadism, and it ain't just the S from BDSM."

"Danna, you'd know I'd never play with someone's emotions that way - not after seeing the way _that man_ treated my sister. Believe it or not, I'm doing nothing... dishonorable."

Gintoki lets go of him, a bit miffed that he'd played the "Invoking the dead" card. Sometimes he just missed beating someone up without the guilt trip.

"So explain why she came home late. And no, the movie being two and half hours long doesn't count - I know you brats can look that up on the internet app, so please don't try to pull one over me."

Okita massages his throat, but doesn't break his gaze away from Gintoki. " _Prance Prance Revolution_. I told her there was no way she could beat my world record, so she wanted to give it a try, and wouldn't stop dancing until the machine broke down at the arcade because she got so frustrated with it. They couldn't kick her out, on account of her being a Yato _and_ stubborn."

The reason is so ridiculously Kagura-ish that at this point, Gintoki actually would prefer that fornication was the actual reason why she came back home late. Fucking weirdos. Back in his day, they'd just lie to Shoyou-sensei as if he didn't already know that they'd already snuck out to check out the red light district.

"Fine." He turns his back. "Touch another single finger on her hair, bring her home late one more time, and you'll wish you'd never met the likes of me."

Okita, uncharacteristically, is compliant. "Yes, sir."

At least Soichirou understands his balls are at stake, so Gintoki supposes this thing between them is serious enough for him to be reassured that Kagura is in safe hands, whatever label they're choosing to use or, perhaps ironically, _not_ use. With his role of parenting done, he starts to walk home.

"Hey, Danna... "

Gintoki turns to the policeman again. "What?"

"She's worried about you." The sandy haired captain's eyes are solemn. "She wishes you'd open up from time to time."

"Don't be ridiculous," Gintoki snaps at him, and walks back home for good this time.

* * *

To say Gintoki feels betrayed by Shoyou-sensei would be a lie, because how could you promise someone was mortal?

He sits on the same spot where Takasugi once landed a point on his chest. Damn asshole had popped his loser cherry. He doesn't think he'll ever get over that.

Two years ago, he had started to pull out all the weeds, trying to release that knot of anger from his chest. He remembered being angry at Utsuro. Angry at the world for monopolizing Altana. Angry that Shoyou had lied to them and left them here, to pick up all the pieces when it all went to hell. Angry that a silent pain would eat inside him for years, especially with the deaths he'd force himself to remember during the Joui war. His hands started to bleed after a while, but he continued at it until he couldn't spot any more of the weeds.

The tremendous shift that had happened the first time he'd ever fought Utsuro probably fucked him over two ways from Sunday, but it wasn't like cataclysmic shifts hadn't happened before.

If everything he knew to be true was proved wrong, he'd reinvent himself. If he can't be the _Shiroyasha_ anymore, maybe just _existing_ as a homeless bum would be good enough. Do it again, and again; come up with anything else - a different job, a different persona, and maybe you'll forget where you come from. Forget that you ever murdered the only person that gave you a home. Forget until you keep it inside and then when it all comes bursting out like a tsunami, avoid places near the water so you don't throw yourself and drown, like the way you should have done the day he died. Forget and forgive, people say, but what happens when the protector needs protecting?

 _He probably took us in, knowing we'd save him someday_ , Katsura said once.

 _Then why does it feel so shitty?_ Gintoki had retorted back.

Katsura didn't have an answer for that.

As Gintoki contemplates his own questions of existential dread - of what death means for those who have a second chance, and for those who don't - he notes how the hallowed ground remains deathly quiet. It exists, as an ode to an absurd tragedy for both the betrayer _and_ the betrayed. Even to this day, the entrance to the school is still standing upright, despite the decade or so that has passed by since the fire.

Someone ought to fix the school - make it come back to life, he thinks, but as he has neither the capital nor energy to do so, it remains a frivolous thought, forgotten as quickly as it comes.

" _Sensei_ , should I visit him?" he asks.

There isn't an answer. Gintoki sighs, feeling ridiculous.

He's spent his entire life afraid of ghosts, so why is he looking for a sign from one? Still, the allure of closure compels him to keep asking for answers he knows he won't get.

"Everyone I know is telling me to. Zura, and Sakamoto... they think I should. But... " He pauses. "... Would it be okay if I... didn't?"

No answer. He trudges on.

"I'm just... tired," he admits. "I want to feel okay about seeing him. But I'm not. I don't want to see him, because they're telling me he doesn't remember the past. And I... "

Gintoki takes a deep breath.

"... I just want to move on. I think he'd want me to do that too, don't you think?"

The only noise that comes from the school are the rustling of the pine trees.

* * *

He arrives at the front step of his apartment no wiser than the day he left. But at least it's home.

No one dares to ask about his trip once he comes back to Kabuki-chou, but there's a sense of relief when he enters the small apartment on top of Otose's Snack Bar. The first thing the kids do is to rush to his arms, even though they're practically grown up. And for a good minute or two, he doesn't let go.

* * *

"You're afraid," Takasugi says, as he taps out his ash from his kiseru. He's not wearing a bandage around his head anymore, and so Gintoki takes a look around and remembers that this is the ship that they escaped to, right before he found out Takasugi was dying a slow death from the Altana poisoning his blood. The ship is rocking back and forth, swaying gently in the breeze, and he can see the edge of the sea melding into the line where the sky begins.

Gintoki takes a breath. He's not keen on fighting his subconscious today.

What he really needs, is to understand why his head is doing this to him.

"Of what?" he gently asks Takasugi.

"Forgiveness," his friend says. He tilts his head towards Gintoki. "It'll eat you alive if you can't forgive yourself for the things you've done."

"But you're dead," Gintoki retorts. "How am I supposed to move on? From you, or Sensei?"

Utsuro had said it best. _If you cut down your master for your friend, and you cut down your friend for your master, what exactly do you have left?_

Gintoki remembered at the time telling the sham of his undead teacher that he wasn't empty. That behind his actions were the benediction of Takasugi, and the wish to protect Shoyou.

The problem with his words was this: Nowhere on this Earth, is there a single confessional booth where he can confess to his sins, and be granted absolution.

If it had been that easy, he would have forced himself to forget about Shoyou a long time ago. It eats away at him, the guilt that pulverizes him into a powder, dissolving himself into a sea of despair. He'd answered back then, to Utsuro - that he still had others - and it was true. That there were others to take care of him, that he knew people loved him enough to go out of their own way to protect him, too.

He just never got close enough to believe it completely. It never felt good enough.

Takasugi doesn't answer his question. He turns his head away, and says, in that half-ironic, half-not way of his, "If you don't, you'll end up like me."

\- tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some writers interpret Takasugi's reincarnation and Gintoki's feelings towards it in different ways. My opinion about it changes every so often, so I can't make a definitive statement on it right now. Sorachi has said that the ending of Takasugi's fate is up to the reader, and thus, I believe that everyone's opinion of what really happened are all equally valid.


	4. on the nature of love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justice for Hasegawa 2k21 😤 😤 😤

Gintoki, quite frankly, is shocked when Hasegawa invites him out to dinner with his wife, who is a lot nicer and better looking than he ever anticipated.

The former MADAO actually looks clean and well-put together, and since Gintoki hasn't brought over his kids this time, Hasegawa is more relaxed than Gintoki has remembered. Over the last couple of months, the man has actually done this year what he hasn't been able to do for the bulk majority of the series: hold down a job. Apparently, some kid he saved back in Episode 188 had a CEO father who once worked his way up in a prestigious company, and by some twist of luck, had given the middle aged loser a new lease on life. And miraculously, Gintoki hasn't fucked it up for him... just yet.

Hatsu, as expected, is a perfect host, and makes him a perfect cup of tea with four sugar cubes on his request without lifting a single eyebrow.

"This is Gintoki, my best friend," Hasegawa says, introducing an ex-war criminal, former prison inmate, and general good-for-nothing _ronin_ to his wife.

"Nice to meet you," Hatsu says, and sets the mug on the coffee table and two other cups of perfectly brewed sencha tea next to it. "Taizou has told me a lot about you," she adds, her voice melodious and even.

Gintoki laughs nervously in response. "What _has_ he said about me?"

"That you saved him from despair many times," Hatsu says, and wraps her dainty hands around her own tea cup, taking a sip. Her eyes are kind and gentle, and they remind Gintoki a little bit like Mitsuba's.

"Oh, that's... charitable of you," he says, abashed. "I would've said the opposite, actually..."

"Are you kidding me?" Hasegawa laughs, and slaps him on the back. "Listen - back when you were gone, all I could think about was how much I missed you. I had the money, I had the girls - never did anything with them, of course - but the thing I most wanted was to have a drink with you."

He doesn't really know how to respond to that, so he lifts his tea to his lips. "Cheers," he says weakly, before taking a sip.

To be honest, Gintoki isn't all that proud of the times where he's fucked over Hasegawa (literally and metaphorically), which is probably why for the last few months, he's tried his best to ignore him whenever he sees the man in Kabuki-chou. But it wasn't like Hasegawa had intentionally sought him out, either. He'd been missing in the streets for a long while, which was why when he called Gintoki out of the blue, he'd had been pretty surprised to see that it'd been the formerly homeless man on the other side of the line.

"It was really my fault that Taizou was out there on the streets for so long," Hatsu says, and her eyes are lowered in shame. "I turned my back on him because my family said they would disown me if I tried to help him in any way. They never liked him in the first place."

"That's all right," Hasegawa says, and places his hand on hers. "You did what you could, and I knew what I signed up for when I chose to marry up. I'm just sorry it took me this long to get my act together."

It's almost sickeningly sweet, and Gintoki has to avert his eyes at the display of affection between the two.

"So, Gintoki. What about you? What's going in your life?"

"Nothing, really."

"I heard you were rubbin' elbows with one of the Prime Minister's advisors. Pretty impressive, if you ask me."

"Nah, that's just Zura being Zura. I don't care for any of that."

Hasegawa taps out a cigarette from a carton, lighting it up and taking a drag. "Well, that's all right. What about a girlfriend, then?"

"Don't have one, don't need one," Gintoki says, shrugging. "Also, don't have the money for one, either."

His friend laughs heartily, and knocks the ash off from his cigarette. "Funny, isn't it? I got no kids, but a wife, and you got kids and no wife. But we're happy anyways, aren't we?"

And Gintoki laughs with him, but something about it rings hollow.

* * *

Maybe it's the fact that everybody around him - strangers and friends alike - are getting paired up, but Sakata Gintoki is fucking sick of it. Or maybe, he thinks, as he walks into a convenience store, it's the friggin' Valentines Day shtick he's got to deal with every single year with no honey, or chocolate, whether it be honmei or giri kind.

Out of boredom, he flips through the pornos in broad daylight, not giving a fuck whether the general public were judging him or not. There's nothing particular interesting on display, so eventually he reaches for the last copy of JUMP -

\- and his hand accidentally clashes with Hattori Zenzou's, who coincidentally is there.

At the same damn convenience store.

Today, of all days.

"Saw it first," Gintoki says automatically.

"Have it," the ninja shrugs.

"I will, thanks," Gintoki snaps at him, a little bit grouchier than usual. Then, after on further reflection, he pauses.

The last time Zenzou had allowed him to take the last copy, they'd been on a failed mission to save the Shogun. It had saved him from being impaled in the chest.

So instead he just picks up the copy and reluctantly hands it to the ninja.

"I changed my mind," Gintoki says abruptly, and the ninja gives him a small smile, tugging at the corner of his lips. "Happy Valentine's Day, asshole."

He's halfway through the automatic doors before Zenzou calls out his name.

"Wait... Want some company? You look like you could use some."

* * *

Gintoki doesn't actually know why the hell a happily taken man is taking him to the _Hokuto Shinkan_ on _this_ particular day, but he's not complaining.

"Shouldn't you be, I dunno, domming for a certain somebody right now? If I know her well enough - and I think I do - she's going to throw a fit if you're not around her." He scans the menu idly, and notices the soba going for a paltry 500 yen.

"She's on a mission, actually. So I guess the two of us are bachelors for today," Zenzou remarks. "She did make you these, though."

He slides Gintoki a box wrapped in some frilly paper. He picks up the package, detects the faint whiff of chocolate, and curls his nose.

"Jesus. What are you, a cuck?"

"Think whatever you like." The ninja isn't rising up to the bait, which proves to Gintoki that love is a crock of shit and a chemical dependence that strips away everything that makes a man, a man.

Ikumatsu comes over to the two of them. "What'll it be, boys?"

"Your most expensive," Gintoki says automatically, like he always does when someone's paying for him, and Zenzou doesn't even object. She raises an eye, but nods.

"Shio ramen for me," the ninja adds, and pours himself a glass of ice-cold water. "You realize that I have a job with the Bakufu, right? And even if I didn't, I could easily afford ten of these ramen bowls."

"Please. Spare me your theatrics," Gintoki grumbles. "I don't know why you're so proud of being such a richy rich. Just because Daddy gave you a ninja clan or two to lead after he died doesn't make you better than anyone else."

"Hey, in this era of peace, that's what we call job security. I'm just glad I'm not made redundant." Hattori is again, unfazed by Gintoki's jibes.

"Why are you being so nice, hmmm? Is there something I should be on the lookout for?" In the background, Ikumatsu is chopping up vegetables for her upcoming orders, and he can smell the familiar, musky scent of broth and garlic oil, carried by the broth steaming up in little clouds behind the booth.

"To be honest with you, I also got sick of planning a wedding," Hattori confesses. "She's a Bridezilla from hell. The other day we were comparing colors. Egg-shell versus porcelain white - who the fuck cares?"

"You knew what you were getting into," Gintoki says, smirking a bit. "Although, _this_ Cupid is spending the day, _alone_ , with a box of pity chocolates," he grumbles, and fiddles around with the chopsticks.

Despite popular belief and his general apathy towards all things pink, romantic, and girly, Gintoki actually does enjoy playing the role of matchmaker from time to time. He's still working on convincing Zura into making his first move towards the owner of the restaurant he's sitting inside. That doesn't mean the _schadenfreude_ inside him doesn't exist, though - there's a part of him that's rather gleeful with his friend's misfortune.

The ninja sighs. "You're right. But like they say - you gotta take the good with the bad."

"Can't believe you see much good," Gintoki says.

To his surprise, Zenzou laughs. "You probably wouldn't get it. But hey, whatever you did, I'm glad you finally convinced her to give up on you. Which was great, because I thought she always put you on a pedestal that you never wanted to be on."

Something about that sort of hurts, but then Ikumatsu sets down a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him, and all is forgiven. The phrase "one man's trash is another's treasure" comes to mind, and he supposes even garbage needs a place to settle down, too.

"My house does feels quieter," Gintoki admits, and breaks apart his chopsticks in two. " _Itadakimasu_."

They're not that different, him and Hattori.

It's halfway through the meal, while he's chewing over a piece of _chashu_ that he finally identifies the feeling that's been niggling at the back of his head.

Jealousy.

* * *

Gintoki wasn't sure if he'd ever fallen in love before, or anything close to that. Certainly, there'd been bouts of infatuation that went nowhere back when he'd been a much younger man, woefully inexperienced with the member of the opposite sex. But there was never quite the right person for him, nobody to turn to in that way. Not when there were wars to be fought, people to be saved, and friends to protect. And even when that part of his life had been over, his heart had been broken in ways that even the worst unrequited love could never hold a candle to. For a while, he'd been treading water for so long that even the smallest part of him that might have wanted intimacy had been completely extinguished for years, well and truly.

And yet, he wasn't looking for physical intimacy, per se... but there were times where he'd been curious of what it would be like. To have someone to hold close, to trust in. To be able to shoulder his fears and his worries without being afraid of them eventually going away. Being alone and trapped in his own self-hatred for so long had made it a fantasy out of reach. His first instinct was to push people away, so much that he'd made a habit of it over the last decade.

_Please don't get close to me._

He wouldn't say it so much as to act on it.

_Please don't get close to me, because then I'll be afraid of losing you._

"Paako, we've missed you." A deep voice boomed behind him, and Gintoki was startled for a moment, nearly knocking over his drink. His Campari remained solid in its glass though, perspiring from its chilled contents. "What is a dashing young man such as yourself doing, all alone on Valentine's Day?"

"I'm not alone," he snapped. "I'm here with a fugly girl connoisseur." He jerked his thumb towards Hattori, who was looking suspiciously too happy getting his drink poured by Agomi.

Mademoiselle Saigou grinned. "And pray tell, what is the hero who saved Edo doing at our humble establishment? I have a few girls who'd be more than happy to escort you around Kabuki-chou for today, if you wish."

"I would rather chew on glass than see myself in public with the likes of those she-beasts - _ARGH!_ "

The cross-dresser dunks Gintoki's face straight into the ice bucket, tutting in womanly disapproval. "Such ungratefulness! Who was there, when you couldn't even pay your rent?"

The ninja sitting across them chuckled, taking a sip of his bourbon whiskey. "Don't worry about us, madam. He gets these mysterious bouts in the Gintama openings where it looks like he's thinking deep thoughts while the rest of us only get split-second cameos. He's the world's worst emo, but he doesn't even have a _Sharingan_ to compensate for it."

Gintoki lifted his face out of the bucket, scowling, and chucks an ice cube at Hattori. To his annoyance, the ninja catches it without batting an eye, dropping it neatly into his drink. Tch.

"I'll have you know that because of me, we're in the top five slots at any given time for the greatest anime of all time." He wiped his face and flicked the icy water off his fingers. "Look it up - it's on _myanimelist_."

"Well, that's true. If someone isn't spamming with bots because they're butthurt _Punter x Punter_ isn't ahead of our shitty series, it's all fine and dandy." Zenzou takes a sip of his whiskey, amused at Gintoki's retort.

"Say what you must. I'm not responsible for those neckbeards," he responds with as much dignity as he can muster.

Saigou surveys the scene and leaves without a word. Gintoki sips his Campari in peace until the other Jouishishi patriot returns with a bucket of ice. Chilled inside is a bottle of Dom Perignon.

"On the house, Paako-chan. We thought we'd never see you again."

It's an unexpectedly generous gift.

"Thanks," Gintoki says, and Saigou pops the bottle, careful not to let any champagne spill out while Agomi lines the glasses on the table.

The motley crew finishes the bottle in no time, and Gintoki, used to being inhibited, doesn't hesitate to call the hostesses for more drinks. His companion grumbles, but fishes his wallet out anyway, and they drink and drink until the moon comes out, right until the establishment kicks the two of the JUMP enthusiasts out.

He's effervescent, but that's only on the surface. In midst of the frivolity, there's a prominent, painfully intrusive thought that interrupts his momentary oblivion, willfully ruining his determination to be happy again and again.

_What am I doing here? What am I doing with my life?_

* * *

Summer. The weather made him lethargic, and all he ever wanted to do was to eat cold strawberries, chilled in the refrigerator. Their fan desperately needed replacing, but so far, no jobs had come by in a while, although no one would have complained for now. The heat was oppressive.

The phone rings with its incessant blare. Gintoki had been lying on his couch with a copy of Shonen Jump Weekly over his face, eyes closed and desperately willing for it to be over.

After the fifth ring, he can't take it anymore. "Oi, Patsuan. Answer the damn phone."

Shinpachi does after giving Gintoki some smart-alecky retort. He tunes him out, only registering a faint murmuring in the background until the boy sets down the telephone.

"Who was it?"

"Hinowa-san. She wanted to know if we wanted to go on a pool excursion with her family."

Kagura had been lounging in front of the fan, and upon hearing the news, sat up excitedly. "We should totally go. It's hot here, Gin-chaaaaan... "

Gintoki didn't want to go.

He'd had another nightmare last night, and he was sure that the sun would just exacerbate how poorly he'd been feeling a while. He felt unusually frail, his nerves frazzled.

"I can't do it," he said. "Too hot for me to move."

"But it'd be nice to cool off in the water," Shinpachi said. "Besides, what else would you be doing?"

"I wouldn't be arguing with you lot," Gintoki grumbled. "You guys can go ahead. Take Sadaharu. I'll tell them I'm sick and can't go."

Shinpachi went back to the phone, and Gintoki tuned him out again, the soft murmurings almost lulling him back to his nap, right before he returned.

"She says she'll pay us our daily rate if we go."

"Fine," Gintoki snaps.

* * *

Coming back here feels strange. There's a small bit of nausea in Gintoki's stomach, and it intensifies when he remembers the last time he was here - Tokugawa Shigeshige, in his earnest determination to understand the commoners, playing a twisted game of water polo with the girls. What an innocent time it'd been, he muses to himself.

He pushes that thought aside though, especially with another person walking towards him.

Tsukuyo is still wearing her orange hoodie over her black bikini, but probably the most infuriating thing about her outfit is the fact that she's wearing the ugliest pair of sandles he's ever seen on a woman.

"What the _fuck_ are those," Gintoki points out, a look of disgust. Meanwhile, in his peripheral vision, he can spot a couple of lechers checking her out, and makes a mental note to accidentally crash into them on the water slide.

"They're Crocz," she says defensively. "They're really comfortable, especially for water parks like these. Plus, you can put accessories on them, if ya want." He looks at her shoes again and notices a couple of kunai charms stuck in the holes of her sandals.

"What are you, seven years old?"

She crosses her arms, miffed. "They're comfortable! Plus, I'm not tha one who's got a friggin' pool noodle. Even Seita doesn't need one of those ta swim anymore."

"Pool noodles are great! You don't have to blow them, they're cheap to buy, and they're - "

"Hey, you two, stop arguing," Shinpachi says cajolingly, as if he's not wearing a similar abomination of Otsuu printed board shorts. "We should at least cool down before picking a fight with each other."

The two adults stare at him, and Gintoki has to reassess his opinion again. "True, I just saw something even more pathetic," he says, but Patsuan - who conveniently has gotten into a bad habit of ignoring what Gintoki has to say these days - turns his head and waves. "Hinowa-san! Hey!"

The former courtesan makes her way towards them, dressed in a one-piece swimsuit and beach wrap, carrying a bag of drinks and snacks in one hand; she grips her cane in the other. Seita is walking next to his mother, wearing flip flops, scuba diving masks, and a duck shaped floatie.

"Well, look who's learned how ta blow up his floatie," Tsukuyo teases him, and ruffles Seita's hair affectionately. "Guess it's not my job anymore, eh?"

"Tsukuyo-nee, not everyone is as strong as you," Seita complained, breaking free of her hand. "Anyways, I'mma go jump in, okay? Bye!"

He cannonballs into the deep end right after kicking off his shoes, and Tsukuyo rolls her eyes. "Boys. I swear, the minute you take an eye off 'em... "

"Oi, wait for me, Seita!" Kagura shrieks, and once she finishes tying her hair up in a bun, runs right after him and does the same thing, but with more force that the water catapults and splashes all of them.

"Don't run in the swimming pool, brats!" Gintoki calls out, irritated. "You'll trip and drown."

Hinowa chuckles, and sits down at the table, unpacking the drinks. "Tsukki, I got you your green tea. And Gin-san... strawberry milk, was it?"

"Thanks," he says gruffly, and without taking his eyes off Kagura, opens the carton expertly. Shinpachi joins them, but unlike the others, he takes the pool stairs, dipping more gracefully into the water in order to protect his glasses from getting wet.

"Kagura-chan has grown so lovely over the years," Hinowa says wistfully. "I know a few girls who'd give anything to have hair that color."

"Absolutely not. That tomboy who could spit as far as I could throw a baseball? You must be joking."

"It's true," Tsukuyo confirmed. "When I first saw her, I could barely recognize who she was. I said, ah, that can't be Kagura-chan, right? But then her voice gave it away."

"Really? That unfortunate, no sex-appeal heroine?" Gintoki scowls. "Maybe you guys ought to go see an eye doctor."

"Don't need ta. Yer just in denial," the blonde said, smirking a bit as she unscrewed the cap of her green tea. "Soon, maybe she'll even walk down the aisle, eh? And you'll be her happy father, thankin' her new groom because ya won't have to feed her anymore - "

"Please stop," Gintoki said, resigned, hands pressed over his face. "I will give you 300 yen if you stop right now."

She gives him a grin that reaches her eyes. "Do you even _have_ any pocket change to spare?"

Wordlessly, he takes out his wallet, and fishes out three one-hundred coins, pushing them in her direction. She scoops them up, smirking and deposits them neatly into Hinowa's hand. "That's enough for a Grape Pocari, I think."

"I'll get Seita one of those, then," the former courtesan says, and lifts her cane. "You two can keep an eye on the children, right?" She winks at Gintoki as she rises from her seat, but he's not really sure what _that's_ supposed to imply.

"'Course," Tsukuyo says, though her voice is a bit strained and there's the faintest pink hue on her cheeks. Once Hinowa's out of earshot, she mutters under her breath, "Wouldn't want 'em to drown, like this loser."

"Not my fault that I can't swim!" Gintoki snaps back. "Long ago, somebody pushed me off the cliff while we were smashing watermelons - how was I supposed to get over that trauma! Try learning how to swim when you can't see anything... "

His voice trails off and somehow, the world slows down. Freezes.

Tsukuyo starts to say something, but her voice trails off once she clocks in his expression.

_Who was it... that person?_

The sensation of prickling sun gathers at the back, and all of a sudden, he's not in the pool anymore. They're somewhere on the cliffs near Hagi, where the air is sweet and the sound of waves from the ocean are crashing relentlessly against the rocky shore.

There's laughter.

Takasugi is snickering from somewhere behind him, still young, still mischievous, still viciously alive with his green eyes sparkling in mirth. He's egging him on. _No, you idiot, the watermelon's on the left - no, not that far, and wait - watch out! Hey! Gintoki!_

He falls into the cliff, right into the water.

He can't see.

He can't breathe.

He can't do anything -

Something's touching him.

Who is it? What is it?

Where is he?

He's terrified, and rises up, unsteadily from his seat. He nearly trips once his leg hits part of the bench, causing him to stumble.

I need to get out of here, he thinks. Run. There's the irrational racing of the heart, the thought of _I am going to die. I am about to die. If I don't get out of here I am going to die and no one is going to_ -

"Gintoki," a voice says. A firm shake on his shoulder.

He blinks.

"Breathe," she says calmly. "Breathe."

* * *

He'd like to explain to her that he was just distracted, but her eyes are too understanding. It makes him want to vomit, so he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, with trembling hands and legs, and pukes the rest of his lunch up in the toilet.

He shouldn't have come here today.

She doesn't bring it up once he's returned to reality, white and shaking, but there's a bottle of water and a packet of gum waiting for him on the table. He spots her in the pool, smiling at Seita, but gives him a look of concern when she sees him coming back. Hinowa comes back to the table with snacks for everybody, and doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The day proceeds smoothly, and he pretends, for everyone else's sake that he is fine, that he's not a completely unhinged lunatic, that he's enjoyed the excursion as a break from the ridiculous heat of the day.

"I'll see you next Monday, then?" Tsukuyo asks, when the two families part ways, and he can't give her an answer. When he doesn't say anything, she just gives him a sad smile, as if she's expected that.

He doesn't want to see her ever again.

\- tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to Gintoki smashing a watermelon is in the episode where Matako, who has been searching for Takasugi for over two years, is talking to Hanpeita in the SSA arc.


	5. a war in my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait! This chapter is a bit longer than I expected, but I hope you all enjoy! I've also increased the number of chapters for this story, which I hope is a good thing for you dear readers. :)

"They're getting that look again," Sakamoto once said to Gintoki, hours after the _Kiheitai_ troops would retreat from yet another defeat.

"Who?" he had asked.

"The soldiers," Sakamoto replied, and he'd been thumbing through a deck of UNO cards, shuffling them out of habit more than an actual desire to play a game. "They've got that look in their eyes."

"What are you talking about?"

His friend sighed.

"The new recruits. You know what I'm talking about. The siege from a few months ago - don't you remember?"

Gintoki did, but he hadn't paid much attention to it. Another day meant another opportunity for a new battle, and they barely had enough to mentally prep for the next one, much less to reflect on their latest casualties. By now they'd all lost track of how many close calls they had, preferring to focus on the present.

"Maybe. Remind me which one it was?"

"The one where they blasted a man with a laser and exploded his body to bits."

"Oh. That one."

Sakamoto stowed his cards away, and finally let out a big sigh. "They're useless, Gintoki. They don't know how to get back up when they're knocked down. It's going to cost us in terms of strategy and... well frankly, victories, if we're going to be even more honest."

It wasn't in his nature to complain. In hindsight, they all should have seen it as a sign of things to come, instead of caught blindsided by Sakamoto's desertion.

"I don't think they're useless."

"They're scared, and that's understandable, but I wish they'd desert if they were going to be a liability in battle."

"They're not liabilities," Gintoki snapped. "They're human beings, Tatsuma."

"Easy enough for you to say when _you're_ not doing the accounting for them," Sakamoto snaps back. It'd been the first time Gintoki had seen him so angry. "We have to find money to feed them, and they can't even _fight_ properly - "

"Well that's _your_ job, isn't it?"

Sakamoto turned pale, and punched Gintoki in the face. It took all of his willpower not to punch back.

"All you guys have to worry about is fighting," he snarled at Gintoki, his face lined with anger. "You and _Takasugi_ and _Zura_ \- all you assholes only think about are these _battles_ , and you can't even fucking win. Meanwhile, I'm the one who has to lie to these daimyos, who are _financing_ this whole goddamn operation - "

"What do you want me to do about it?" Gintoki shouted at him, his left cheek stinging. "If you wanna quit, then quit! No one's holding a gun to your head, Tatsuma! We're all just trying our best to survive here!"

"If that's the hill you wanna die on, then fine!" Sakamoto spat out. "Just don't blame me when some strategy goes wrong, because of these guys going through some fucking _panic attacks_ \- or - or whatever the hell you're calling them!"

Without another word, he turned his back on his friend, and walked away, presumably to vent his anger somewhere else. Gintoki wouldn't forget that look of pure hatred as long as he lived.

Deep down, Gintoki knew why Sakamoto was blowing off steam. He'd been in the middle of testing the new artillery out. The Kiheitai's recently acquired rifles were promising; and some had the potential to fight back the Amanto on equal terms. The sound of a shot bullet had caused an uproar in the troops; some soldiers trying to run away thinking it'd been an ambush with the enemy.

Takasugi had chewed him out for an hour or so before kicking him out of the commander's tent. Morale had been down. No one was happy, and it was a bad sign that the most well-adjusted member was starting to crack.

Sakamoto yelling at him wasn't the issue, even if it was unusual.

But to call their comrades _weak_ , especially the men who'd taken an oath to fight for the country, risking their lives...

It was unforgivable. Even if it was a reasonable complaint, and an opinion widely shared by the higher ups.

Gintoki wouldn't ever shake off that feeling of weakness since then. It'd been one of the reasons why he preferred to suffer alone. And even when Sakamoto came up to him later, to apologize, Gintoki wouldn't ever forget what he said.

* * *

Tsukuyo rings the apartment the next afternoon. He deliberately chooses to not pick up the phone, and Kagura is the one who comes up to him, confused when she reports that he doesn't have to come to Yoshiwara anymore to repay his debts.

"Did something happen between you two?" she asks cautiously, and generously offers him a stick of sukonbu, sensing his dark mood. He takes one and sticks it in his mouth.

"She complained too much about me flirting with the courtesans, so we decided in the meantime I should stay far away from them," he says. "Apparently, she'll sue me for sexual harrassment if I go to Yoshiwara too many times."

Kagura chews on her own seaweed thoughtfully. "I see. Is it because she's jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gintoki says, and frowns. "Where would you ever get that idea?"

"Papi says that when a woman is in love, she'll try to keep the man she's in love with far from s**** - "

"WHAT KIND OF DISGUSTING THINGS IS THAT BALDY TEACHING YOU, YOUNG LADY - "

" - and so, she won't want anybody else to get closer to him," Kagura finishes, relishing his expression of horror. "I mean, it makes sense, yes?"

He resolutely has to nip this train of thought in the bud. "Kagura-chan, I simply paid off my debt. And next time, if I go to jail, don't ask Tsukki to pay it off. She'll just add interest to it, like the rest of those extortionate banks."

"Tsukki says men are like banks, though." Kagura leans back on the sofa, plopping her feet on his lap. He pushes them off. "She says that once they make a withdrawal, they lose interest - "

"That is definitely NOT what she meant! Kagura-chan, how many times have you been going down to the red light district? Gin-san won't allow you to go there anymore!"

"I haven't been there in ages!" the teen protests. "It's more like she and that stalker go out on the surface, because they have things to plan."

"Oh, right." Gintoki has almost forgotten about the incoming wedding, which he'd received an obnoxiously gilded invitation along with veiled threats of dismemberment if he didn't manage to R.S.V.P. in time. Shinpachi had dutifully filled it out and returned it in due course.

"Anyways, I reckon she's a bit sad about Sacchan tying the knot," Kagura says, and takes out another fresh stick of sukonbu. "Not that much, but a little bit."

Gintoki keeps on sucking his own pickled seaweed, eying her suspiciously. "Don't tell me you're hoping to tie the knot with Soichirou-kun. Gin-san won't allow it."

"WHY WOULD I - " Now Kagura stands up indignantly. "I would never do such a thing with a Chihuahua, yes?" At his amused smile, she huffs and tosses her long hair back angrily. "What kind of suggestion is that? Mami told me a long time ago that I have to stay free and footloose for a long time, otherwise I'll end up in a loveless marriage."

The more Gintoki hears about her parents, the more disturbing pictures of their family come to mind. Still, he rolls his eyes and deftly changes the subject by giving her a lifeline to end the conversation.

"You don't have to hide it from me. Otae told me enough to trust whatever decision you make."

"I broke it off," Kagura says matter-of-factly. He blinks.

There's a frustrated noise at the back of her throat. "I guess I wasn't ready. I still wanna travel to faraway places. I still wanna go with my Papi and be an alien hunter, you know? I mean, like - we've been friends forever. We tried it out but it just felt... _wrong._ Like I was going to get something wrong and make mistakes... plus, I still don't understand what romantic love is."

There's a lot that Gintoki could say about that, but her words are poignant, and he wants her to finish her thoughts. "I see."

"So I guess the plan is, I still wanna fight him, and call him names when he deserves it, but as for the other romantic lovey-dovey stuff..." Kagura takes a deep sigh. "Well, we decided to put that on hold, even though ... even though I knew that... he's always cared about me, I guess."

Huh. So maybe they really had been playing Prance Prance Revolution.

It's a careful approach to a relationship that somewhat underscores their aggressive dynamic, Gintoki muses. Well, it wasn't surprising. Considering Okita's backstory with his sister, and the lack of a healthy relationship model from Kagura's own family, it was no wonder that they'd come to this conclusion.

Regardless, it still makes him sad.

He pats her head, and Kagura turns towards him, chewing her lip.

"I'm really proud of you," Gintoki says.

He's taking small steps at a time to vocalize things, to give praise to people who deserve it - things that he's missed out on in the last two years, simple things he'd taken for granted before then on the assumption that he'd have enough time to say the right things, enough time to fix things before it got too bad.

Now, he won't do that anymore.

"How long do you think boys can wait, if you're not ready?" she asks nervously.

He considers it.

"For the right one? Probably a lifetime, I think."

* * *

Gintoki doesn't visit the graveyard anymore, and he doesn't go to the red light district for a long time. He doesn't let himself drink, either, so what he does instead is to work as hard as he can until he can't possibly do anything but to drop straight into bed when he gets back home. It works about half of the time.

The problem with getting older is that time goes by too quickly, and he's starting to forget things; not even aware that it's officially time for the summer festival until Kagura hangs up a yukata on the hook of the sliding door, near the closet.

At his confused expression, Shinpachi sighs. "Gin-san, you didn't remember us talking about this? We were going this festival together, right? I mentioned it over dinner..."

Lately he'd been on autopilot, keeping his interactions with most people short and limited. There had been more than a few times where he forgotten his keys, or that the three of them were supposed to do a job that had slipped his mind completely.

"Otsuu-chan is rereleasing one of her more underrated albums, and she's promoting it at the summer festival - "

"You mean, she's promoting an old album from five years ago? What a ripoff!" Kagura exclaims, in the middle of painting her fingernails neon pink.

"How dare you slander her name! ' _Our Coming Together was Bitchin', Tandoori Chicken_ ,' was a masterpiece! Her finest work! I've listened to it 700 times!" Shinpachi argues, his fist clenched in passion.

Kagura picks her nose. "It wasn't any different from _Your Grandmother Wears Your Basketball Shoes_ \- "

"That was the name of a song, not an album!"

"Quiet, already!" Gintoki barked. "And Shinpachi, I didn't forget, I was just a bit distracted."

The doorbell rang, mercifully interrupting their short argument.

Tae had arrived, right after they all had an early dinner. She was there to help Kagura get dressed, but she was also there to assist the teenager with her hair and makeup. In the interim, Shinpachi scrolls down on his smartphone for directions to the festival, and Gintoki rereads his copy of Shonen Jump for the fourth time.

"Hey, Patsuan," he says, after idly turning the page where Kurapika is talking about some Nen rule. "This... _thing_ with Soichirou... how long was it a thing?"

Shinpachi looks up at him, eyes oddly sympathetic. "I guess ever since she came back to Edo. Kagura came back as a kid, but he figured out it was really her all along."

"Oh."

One aspect of teenagerhood that Gintoki had forgotten due to his age, was the fact that they liked to keep secrets. It was hard to keep track of what was going on, but he still hoped that there was an open door policy between him and his kids. He'd spotted Shinpachi the other day writing a letter to someone named Kirara, and had wondered if it was another pop star before remembering that she'd actually been in the show before.

Obviously the teen wasn't interested in asking _him_ for any advice this time. It was remarkably ungracious, considering Gintoki had hired a few prostitutes for him back in the day, but who was he to dictate love lives? Especially as his own was virtually nonexistent?

His train of thought is interrupted as Tae and Kagura come out of his room, looking as pretty as a pair of dolls. Kagura was dressed in a sky blue yukata, delicately patterned with white peonies on the fabric; her kanzashi pins had been carefully pinned in a long braid wrapped around her head. Tae's yukata, on the other hand was brighter in appearance; though the underlying color was dark navy, bright sunflowers embroidered on the silk would bring out a warmth that was generally lacking in the woman herself. Her ponytail had been curled for the occasion, and the effect was dazzling.

"What do you think?" Tae asks cheerfully.

"You two look beautiful," Shinpachi says sincerely, which made his sister beam in happiness. Kagura only turned pink, still shy about receiving compliments.

"Pretty is as pretty does," Gintoki adds, just as sincerely. "I feel sorry for the men who might take you two as real women rather than the mountain gorillas that you truly are."

With no further ado, Tae delicately takes a step towards him with a poisonous smile, and punts him off the balcony with one of her trademarked roundhouse kick. It catches him by surprise - he after all, usually could deflect the punches from the two of them, but he didn't _expect_ himself to be flung out of the door from his apartment!

It hurt, goddammit! Why couldn't anyone take a joke these days?

* * *

As expected, the festival had been filled with people, and Gintoki could smell the familiar scent of fried yakisoba in the air. Though he'd already eaten dinner, he was already contemplating buying some more food; Kagura was already spending her pocket change on cotton candy.

The concert would begin in an hour, so the four of them were walking around the premises, and if there was a booth that caught somebody's eye, they would stop.

Shinpachi caught more goldfish than Kagura, but she had managed to win more rounds knocking down bowling pins, winning a medium sized teddy bear with a bow wrapped around its neck. Gintoki had only tried his hand a few times, but didn't feel like wasting too much money after turning up empty handed.

Tae was interested in the shooting games, and so they four of them headed over to the booth. By the time they were in distance, he'd spotted someone he really, really, didn't want to see.

"Tsukuyo! Yoo-hoo!" Tae waved, her hand up in the air. She looked over, and saw them, smiling. If she was surprised by Gintoki's appearance, she didn't show it. She was holding a rifle in one hand, and handed it over to the vendor.

"Did you come here alone, Tsukki?" Kagura asked.

"No, I came with Hinowa and Seita, but we went our separate ways. He saw one of his classmates, and she wanted to go shoppin' with a few of the girls, so I decided to have some fun on my own in the meantime."

"Oh, but that's so sad!" Tae said. "You ought to hang out with us instead."

"I'm used to doin' things on my own." Tsukuyo flashes a grin, and holds up her newly acquired prize. "Latest Bitch bag. Nice, huh?"

"Wow, it is pretty nice," Tae said. "What a shame, because I was looking forward to winning it as well... "

"I'll leave you ladies to it, shall I?" Gintoki asked. "I just spotted a very nice stall with mitarashi dango, so if you don't mind - "

Tae jabs her elbow into his ribs, causing him to stumble momentarily. "How rude, Gin-san! What a shame it is, to leave a perfectly beautiful, young, and single woman alone with no company, when you yourself are a perfectly capable, single and pathetic man - "

"HOW DOES THAT MAKE ME PATHETIC? AND HOLD ON, WHY IS IT OKAY FOR HER TO BE SINGLE AND NOT ME?"

"That's right, Gin-chan," Shinpachi says with the moral superiority of the worst cherry boys. "Here you are, abandoning young maidens right and left, while the rest of us have to grovel and kneel just to even look at them. It makes me _sick_."

"That's seriously not my fault if the only girls you consider happen to pop idols, you virgin!"

"Now, now - " Tsukuyo's cheeks are slightly pink. "I'm really fine walking around by myself. I enjoy it, actually." But a vote is taken, and no one will allow her to do that for tonight until the rest of her family comes back. Gintoki keeps a distance from her and doesn't engage her in conversation unless he has to.

Now the gang of five amble into the live open ampitheatre, killing some time until the concert would begin. Tsukuyo buys everyone a shaved ice. Shinpachi meets up with his fanclub, who are appropriately dressed in the uniforms.

When Otsuu comes out, dressed in a brilliant yellow and purple miniskirt, the audience goes crazy.

Gintoki lasts about three songs into the concert before he calls it a night. The crowded venue is suffocating, and he needs fresh air.

* * *

He thought he'd picked a pretty good place to go AWOL, but then _she_ had to turn up near the adjacent park near the venue, where couples looking for privacy are secluding themselves away from prying eyes. Goddamn ninjas.

"Knew it wouldn't a bathroom break," Tsukuyo says, smiling as she lights up her kiseru. "The kids are gonna worry 'bout you if you don't come back soon."

"Nah, they're not. Shinpachi is having the time of his life, and Kagura's way too happy just going along with the ride."

"But - "

"If you're so worried, you can go tell them that Gin-san has no other plans but to drink until dawn."

"I'm not running away," Tsukuyo says softly. "You can push me away, Gintoki. But you can't do it forever."

She takes a puff from her kiseru, and releases the smoke from her mouth.

"Why do you care so much?" he finally asks. "You... and everyone else... "

"Because we all know what it's like to lose someone. And we care about you, Gintoki. You're the one who fixes everything, even when the chips are down."

"I haven't - "

"It's Takasugi, isn't it?" Now Tsukuyo looks at him, really looks at him as if he matters. As if he's always mattered. "Takasugi Shinsuke."

He can't bear to look at her.

Of course she'd taken a glance at the grave that he'd been standing next to, after all this time. He'd been stupid to think that she wouldn't figure it out.

"How did you find out?"

"I asked Hijikata about him," Tsukuyo admits. "He was your friend at one point, wasn't he? During the Jouishishi war."

He doesn't answer the question.

"Gintoki, you're not the only one who's lost someone dear to them before. Otae-san, or Kagura-chan... or Shinpachi... I know they've lost one o' their own before - "

"It's different."

"Tell me, then. How is it different from them?"

_I killed them._

But Gintoki doesn't say this. Instead of answering her question, he counters it with one of his own.

"What am I supposed to do when everything I knew to be true, is turned upside down?" he asks. "What am I... how am I supposed to - "

Confronted by his own uselessness, he notes with a touch of irony all the problems he's solved. He can mend the relationship between long-lost lovers, can reunite a police force with their commander, can plead with a crying sister to make peace with her crybaby older brother... He can even save the world once or twice, when pressed.

But he can't save a friend. Or a master.

They'd been two most important people in the world, and he had let them down. Terribly.

"Gintoki."

Her voice is measured; quiet, but neutral. "Nobody can help you if you don't talk to anybody about what happened. The reason why people are bein' so nice to ya is because they care. I care. Shinpachi and Kagura, they're lookin' out for ya in their own way. They just want you to feel better. That's all."

He shakes his head. "If it were that easy, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

A moment passes. Then another. He finally turns his head to look at her, and to his surprise, her eyes are damp.

"Do you remember when we... " Tsukuyo pauses, and swallows. "When my master... when I was in that tower, hanging from his web? You told me something. I've never forgotten it... "

Without any prompting, his mind easily retrieves the memory. A room, filled with darkness and despair. Silver lines of sharp thread, hanging in the balance, glistening in the moonlight as he silently raised his wooden sword behind her. Tsukuyo, wrists trapped in a spider's grotesque rendering of a cobweb. She'd been held captive, but not as a damsel in distress. It'd been a chosen martyrdom, one that he had understood all too well once he'd heard the short conversation between the student and her master.

"What did I tell you?"

Without skipping a beat, she doesn't hesitate, her voice soft and smooth. 

" _Trying to shoulder the burden alone? Don't be such a stranger. Cry and ask for help. Lean on me with your runny nose. Cry when you feel like crying. Laugh when you feel like laughing. When you're tearing up with an ugly face, I'll give you a cry with an uglier face. When you're laughing so hard your stomach hurts, I'll laugh in a louder voice. That's how it's supposed to be._ "

There's a pause. In the darkness, in the solemnity between the two of them, he finally gives up.

He's tired of carrying this weight alone.

Chuckling, he admits, "I was never that good at taking my own advice."

She laughs a little at that. "I don't think either of us are."

In the night air, the noise of the concert is muted. The audience sings, " _Worked myself to near-death, finally saved enough for my deposit…_ " before fading into the sounds of the booming bass.

"What song do you think that is?" Tsukuyo asks.

" _The Redback Spider in My Newly Built Apartment_ ," Gintoki says. At her amused smile, he defends himself. "I sometimes hear Shinpachi singing it in the shower."

"I see."

There's a moment that passes by, and then he asks the question he's always wanted to ask her.

"How did you get over it?"

"Get over what?"

"Your master."

Her eyes widen, but then she thinks about it.

"He was suffering. All I ever did was to put an end to his suffering."

"But you killed him."

"I did." Tsukuyo doesn't question why he's asking her these questions. "And it hurt me to do it. But he needed me to do it. So I did."

She plucks a daisy from the grass, and starts picking off the petals. "I went to his old village and saw his sister's grave once. His people had been massacred. He thought it was his fault, and so he made the wrong decisions, goin' down the wrong path because there wasn't anyone else to tell him otherwise. Eventually he couldn't even escape his sins, even if he wanted to."

"And that gave you... closure?"

"I don't know if it did," Tsukuyo said, and her fingers twist the stem of the daisy into a ring. "I couldn't forgive him for leavin' me behind once, but I thought if I knew more about him... or understood him... it would all make sense. And it did. Somehow, over the years, I ended up accepting the reasons why he did what he did, one way or another."

Not for the first time, a pang of jealousy hits him.

"I s'pose that once I knew that he wanted me, maybe even _designed_ me to kill him, I shoulda been angry. But I wasn't. Because in the end, he gave me so much more than what he took away. I get ta protect the people I love, and that woulda never happened without Shishou."

"But let's say that he could've redeemed himself. Maybe he was starting to realize he could have been a good guy all along."

Tsukuyo laughs. "It's ironic ya said that, because Shishou used ta be fond of saying this to me all the time when I was a little girl. It's our _choices_ , ya see, that define us. Maybe Shishou wanted to be a good guy on his deathbed, right before burnin' half the city. But it doesn't mean that he's gonna be redeemed jus' because he said sorry in the end. We all gotta make our own choices, no matter what happened to us in the past."

A silent spark exploded into a thousand extraordinary particles of light, creating a blooming, fiery flower against the inky sky. They watched it fade into oblivion, before another spark of light rose up to replace the previous firework.

Gintoki looks at her. She's busy looking at the sky, the shimmering lights illuminating the angles of her face.

Sometimes people just have all the luck. When he looks at her, all he can see is a clean soul and a pretty face. Tsukuyo has both and lives, yet again, for another day. Like a flower blooming in the crack of a sidewalk, she flourishes in the chaos of this upside down world. She was a flawed woman, of course, but that had never taken anything away from her inner or outer beauty.

"My friend never really had much of a choice," he admits, and the moon goddess turns her head. "He had a shitty dad, right before he nearly got disowned from his family. Then our teacher picked him up, right into our school. I guess the reason why I feel so fucked up about it is because I felt like I could have saved him before he wanted to destroy everything we used to stand for."

For now, this is all he can admit. Maybe someday in the future he can confess more of his sins. Not today, though.

Tsukuyo takes a puff on the pipe. "Even if he was a terrorist who killed people like Hijikata's men?"

Gintoki smiles. "You know, I was there before he decided to do those things. No one grows up to be someone like that. He could've been a politician. Maybe even a legend."

"But... "

"But you're right. We all have choices to make, in the end."

The fireworks suddenly increase in quantity, multiplying before the sky is nothing but multishimmering colors. They watch the finale in silence, right before the very last one blooms before their eyes.

"Guess the concert's over by now," Tsukuyo says. "We'd better get back."

"Guess so."

* * *

Closure is a myth, and there'd been very little of it in Gintoki's life.

But this time is considerably different.

Nobume Imai's office is imposing, and she sits in her leather chair with an learned authority that comes with more than a decade of deadly skill. On her table is a photo of Sasaki, the Mimawarigumi's former chief. There's a small pinch of guilt when he thinks about all the text messages he's ignored from the man, but he pushes it aside for now.

Power, he's learned, is best kept in those who wield it not for ego, but for the good of the people. Sasaki Isaburo had always been the embodiment of that.

"Ten minutes, Shiroyasha," she says crisply, her sword at her side. "Otherwise, I'll cut you up into ribbons. I'm a very busy woman, you know."

"Right," he says, eying her with some skepticism. "You sure you weren't looking for the hottest bakeries in town? Kagura-chan told me that you and Soyo were out of Pon-de-Rings the other day - "

"The three Sadisteers have a long and cherished history with each other," Nobume says without blinking. "The Prime Minister also needs to take a break from time to time. I'm here to make sure of that."

"Oi! You just wanted some donuts, didn't you?"

Nobume ignores his statement entirely. "Katsura told me you'd come eventually. I just wasn't sure when, but I had a notion you would show up randomly."

"Did he, now?"

"Yes. Despite his eccentricities, he's had a very good nose for people." Her eyes meet his. "So then, Sakata Gintoki. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Ah. Well then..." Gintoki fidgets. He's not exactly sure how to bring up his question up. "I just wanted to know more about Shoyou-sensei."

Nobume's eyes widen, and for a fleeting second, Gintoki remembers that she's only twenty years old. She's the same age as Tae, the same age as Kagura's brother - hell, even the same age as Soichirou, too. All of them still remain on the cusp of youth, barely legal enough to have a proper drink. She would've been so young, back when Shoyou was alive.

Still, Nobume maintains her composure. "What do you want to know?"

Gintoki swallows. It's never been easy to talk about these things "Ever since... that day, I wondered why he didn't tell us, his students, about the truth. I mean... I knew there had to be a reason to it, but if... If there was something that we could have done - "

"Utsuro was a government-sanctioned biological weapon," Nobume says curtly, and now she places her sword on the desk. "He was as close as you could get to an atomic bomb hundreds of years ago, and so, it was imperative that he was kept a secret. Shoyou-sensei knew that if his students possessed any prior knowledge of him as the former head of the Naraku, the government wouldn't have hesitated to kill you all to keep his existence classified, even if you were children. Civilians, after all, have been massacred for less."

Indeed, the Kansai Purge was proof of that fact alone.

"Right. But I thought we were just on the run because he was against the Bakufu."

"He was, at first..." Nobume said, and now walks towards a filing cabinet, pulling out a manila folder with a few sheets of paper inside. "Here. A statement of his crimes from twelve years ago."

Gintoki reads it through the list for the gist of it. Sedition and insurrection happen to be the most common offenses, but there are a few high-profile murders attached to it, too.

When he finishes, he gives back the file to Nobume. "I suppose you weren't there the weeks before he was... executed?"

Now the Mimawarigumi chief looks stricken. "I was his guard, yes. He was ready to go. After the Naraku resurrected Utsuro, the Tendoshu sent him on a ten year mission to colonize the other planet's Altana for their own quest for immortality and wealth. I never saw him again, and I took the opportunity to defect from the organization when there was a leadership gap."

With a sigh, she turns around, and lifts her hair so that he can see the nape of her neck. There's a tattoo of a Tengu bird, branding her for eternity. "You can see it here, if you don't believe me."

So he and her share that in common: marked demons since they were children.

"I believe you. Did Sasaki know any of this?"

"Not enough to anticipate him coming back after Shigeshige was assassinated, no." Now Nobume's voice is flat. She sinks down into her armchair again "I thought he would have preferred to stay in space, to be honest with you."

"Not your fault," Gintoki says. She chuckles.

"What I think is," he says, and now Nobume turns to him again. "If you'd told Takasugi about this a while ago, he might have felt better about our teacher."

"There wasn't any way to prove it to him at the time," Nobume said, sighing. "Maybe I should have. But overall, he was smart enough to go after the right people. He made a promise to Isaburo to bring down the crows, and he more or less succeeded, didn't he?"

* * *

There's a tug on her lips when he walks towards her on a Monday evening, and somehow, he thinks things are going to be okay.

"Nice to see you back, mister." Tsukuyo takes another puff from her kiseru, her gold studded earrings glittering in the moonlight.

"I might've accrued some interest on that debt of mine," he admits. "Maybe I could pay more of it off."

"Patrol shift, then?"

"Whatever you want," he answers.

She laughs.

His heart throbs uncomfortably, and then, with trepidation, he realizes something that he resolutely has been denying for the last three years.

He's in love with her.

He's always been in love with her.

And he's not sure if he'll ever have the balls to tell her, this time, without the pretense of incense.

\- tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Otsuu lyrics are real. Some are taken from the 3z novel translation, and some are taken from the Audio Highs album.


	6. a little bit in love with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After I recently found out that Gintoki is canonically 29 after the time skip, I was like oh no! How do I fit this into the story? Then I thought that probably more than half a year to a year has passed since Chapter 704 and Chapter 1 of this story anyway, so it sort of works out. In this chapter, he turns 31.

When Gintoki knocks on the door to one of Hattori's many apartment complexes, it's Sacchan who comes out, flinging her arms around him as if he's a long lost lover.

"Get off me, woman!" Gintoki yells, and pushes her off.

"Ah, but I've missed you _sooooo_ much!" Sacchan sings, unperturbed by his rejection. "Gin-san has finally come to see me, right when I'm about to get hitched! This has to be the most exciting development that's ever happened to me since I got engaged! Will the rival from years ago come and claim his territory, igniting new flames? Or is he here to express regret over leaving the love of his life? Kyaah, it's _soooooo_ thrilling~❤!"

Gintoki pinches the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to go home already. He makes a mental note to charge Zenzou a ten percent tip, because this errand, as much as it is deceptively easy, is equally as deceptively horrible. Sure, maybe he was sick of wedding planning, but how desperate was he to shove it onto a love rival, even if it went mostly unrequited? Weren't any of the other members of the Diamond Perfume gang free to go along with her antics?

"Don't get any ideas," he snaps at her. "Toe the line and I am _leaving_ , do you understand?"

Sacchan fans herself, turning pink. "Oh, yes! More, Gin-san! Please treat me like the pig that I am - "

Fuck! He'd forgotten that telling her horrible things only turned her on. Most normal women (not that he was surrounded by them) would have considered everything about him a turn off, but this particular woman was far from normal.

The taxi comes to pick them up, and mercifully, Sacchan leaves him alone for five minutes, texting a few people here and there on her cell phone, and giving directions to the driver on where to go. Gintoki is idly staring out of the window before she snaps her mobile off, and turns to him with a smug, satisfied grin.

"So, I heard from Tsukki that you two made up."

"Don't self-project yourself onto other people's personal affairs, you sicko," Gintoki says, glaring at her. "And don't make up scenarios. It's very unbecoming of a blushing bride."

Sacchan is undeterred. "I think we've all established that I'm far from being a blushing bride, Gintoki."

Well. He couldn't argue with that.

"And. I think we've established that with the existence of the Love Potion Arc, there's ample evidence to conclude that you have feelings for - "

" _I was under the influence of the incense_ ," Gintoki growls, adamant on proving this fact over and over again. "And it was an Original Video Animation. S*nrise didn't even bother to include the episodes in the 2015 season, so how canon is it, really? I mean, we could even consider it filler at this point."

Sacchan is polite enough to let him finish, right before she sighs melodramatically, proving that she never listens to him unless he's directly insulting her. "Ah, I can't stand this suspense of this anymore! Watching you two is even worse than a Korean drama where they have to build up the romantic tension for thirty episodes, and then you rewarded with only one mediocre kiss! The worst part is that there won't be any love scenes, and when you really think about it, it brings up the question if BDSM enthusiasts will ever be portrayed in a healthy relationship - "

"Oi, I think you're getting a little off topic now! And if that's how you really feel about these shows, why do you keep watching them?!"

The driver seems to be used to her fits of insanity, because he hasn't budged from his seat, not even a little bit. Sacchan sighs again. "Gintoki, it is a complete tragedy that the bond between sadists and masochists are portrayed in such an inaccurate way in the media. Still, the bond that I will have with you will never change, no matter our circumstances!"

"There was no such bond between us, you sick excuse of a lady!"

" - and even with my looming marriage coming ahead, I truly wish for you to find a masochist worthy of being my successor - "

"Please, can you go ahead and die already?"

"I've always believed, with all my heart, that Tsukki would be proper replacement." Sacchan takes out a handkerchief and wipes away her imaginary tears. "I know you'd be the proper dominant to break those walls down, those cold, cold walls of hers, to flame a secret desire in her - "

"What kind of friend talks about another friend like this?!"

Sacchan blows her nose. "Please don't forget about me when you two are happily married and pushing around twins in a baby stroller. I know I'll be that ex-lover, thinking about all those times where we could have had it all, but - "

"Oi, I was never interested in you! Get it together, already! How do you think your poor fiancé feels, especially with you talking like this about me all the time?"

The driver stops in front of a fancy hotel, and for a moment Gintoki is distracted. He'd been so busy arguing with Sacchan that he hadn't noticed they were driving into the ritzier part of town.

Guess it was a good idea to wear the outfit he did before the time skip rendered their new clothes irrelevant...

Sacchan steps out of the car, and the valet bows to her before escorting the two of them into the lobby.

"Miss Sarutobi, how nice to see you again!" The receptionist greets them at the desk. She kind of reminds Gintoki a little bit like Ketsuno Ana, with brown hair and a charming smile.

"We're here for the cake tasting," Sacchan says, her voice equally as warm.

"Yes, of course madam. And this is your fiancé, I presume?"

"Ex-husband," Sacchan corrects her, all while Gintoki glares at her with the heat of a thousand suns. "Please don't mind him. He's a professional pastry chef, so I thought I'd rely on his experience."

The receptionist is a true professional, whose facial expressions betray nothing. "Of course, madam. Right this way."

"I didn't sign up for this!" Gintoki hisses into the ninja's ear, as they follow the receptionist to the elevator. "Keep up making lies and see if I don't just ruin this fancy wedding of yours - "

Sacchan widens her eyes in excitement. " _Ehhhh_? You really would? Oh, Gin-san, I would love that if it was _you_ who did it - "

"Forget it," he snaps, defeated. No matter what he does, she's going to do whatever she wants. If he sparks joy into her life, who is he to ruin that?

They sit down at a counter and a chef with a moustache wheels in a cart with several silver plates of cake slivers.

Sacchan passes Gintoki a pen and piece of paper, eyes gleaming in triumph. "Write your ratings, and don't be shy, _ex-husband_."

Gintoki scoffs, but takes it anyway. "Fine, woman."

He'd been here to do a job in the first place, stalker or no stalker. And this one, at least, would pay him well.

To nobody's surprise, he's able to sample fifty different slices of cakes without feeling the need to throw up. There were quite a few gourmet flavors that he wasn't terribly fond of, but there were also a number of traditional flavors that he thought were appropriate enough to cater to all tastes.

Sacchan gives up after her twentieth sample, declaring that all this sugar consumption would be bad for her beauty. He rolls his eyes, but whenever he bites into a flavor that he thinks is promising, he pushes a plate towards her.

He's efficient, if nothing else.

They narrow it down to three choices - he's quite partial to the strawberry and cream, whereas she leans towards the salted caramel. The last choice, which they both agree on, is a dark chocolate and raspberry combo which melts in their mouths like butter. Once everything is wrapped up, Sacchan makes another appointment with the chef for another tasting date, nearer to the day of the wedding, and then they finally make their way down to the lobby.

"I suppose whichever flavor my darling likes the most, I'll pick," she chirps with excitement, shooting off a quick text on her cell phone to call the taxi. It's almost rush hour, so the noise of traffic is getting a little bit louder. As the weather shifts from summer to autumn, the wind gets a little bit chillier day by day.

"I'll bet you'll just rope him into salted caramel, won't you? In either case, I'm sure he won't give a shit about this, Sacchan."

The kunoichi tosses her hair back haughtily, somewhat miffed at his assessment. She snaps her phone shut and slips it back into her purse.

"Spoken like a true bachelor who doesn't believe in true love. It's a shame, Gintoki. You'd make a perfect husband."

"Love is a bunch of chemicals," he argues. "Once they wear off after the honeymoon period, and everybody's worst points come up, the whole thing comes crashing down. And what do you get? Divorce papers, after you find out she's been banging her personal trainer."

"Guess I'm lucky, then, that someone already saw the worst of me a long time ago."

Her response catches him off guard, because he'd expected her to argue with him. But instead, Sacchan smiles wryly, all pretences dropped, and somehow, she looks charming in that moment. In that space of contentedness, with the golden sun hitting her hair, she seems omniscient, as if she knows something he doesn't. His heart stops for a second, understanding that finally, the underdog has emerged as the true winner between the two of them. In that moment, he finally realizes that she'd been pretending to still be in love with him all this time, solely for his benefit.

She might have lost the battle, but at end of the day, she'd won the war.

What a fool he'd been.

He can't think of anything else to say to that, so he rummages around for a question.

"How did it happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, who made the first move?"

"What, are you jealous?" she teases, her glasses glinting in the sunset. "It's too late for me to get these security deposits back, Gintoki. Unless... ?"

"I'm serious! I just want to know."

"I'm pretty sure he did," Sacchan says, and her voice is softer, now. "Honestly, I don't remember."

Gintoki sometimes forgets that there are different faces that people show to others, and here is a prime example of that. Sacchan is, when she's away from him, more than a stalker. She's a capable assassin, a soon to be _wife_ \- a possibility he'd never considered before - and a best friend.

When had that happened?

He turns away, and there's a little bit of a lump in his throat when he says, "Is he the right one for you?"

Sacchan chuckles. "Do you think I would've given up on you if he wasn't?"

* * *

Shimura Tae wins four tickets to the movie theaters from the supermarket raffle ticket, and loads her purse with candy from the local Taiso shop to Kagura's everlasting joy.

Gintoki gets a licorice stick, which is probably way less than he deserves, but whatever. For Shinpachi, he's thrilled with his box of chocolate covered strawberries, and Kagura is the one that naturally gets spoiled, so she gets the lion's share of the treasure, which involves two boxes of Pochi, a pudding cup, and a jumbo sized bag of marshmallows in pastel colors.

"Don't start eating them until the movie begins," Gintoki warns her as they settle into their seats - a futile endeavour, he finds, as Kagura has already dug into an opened box of matcha-flavored Pochi.

"Let her do what she likes, Gin-san," Tae says and she unwraps her own, smuggled containers of Bargain Dash - strawberry flavored, he observes with a hint of envy. There's a piece of aluminum that used to wrap the ice cream in the thinnest sheet of dry ice; a testament to the power of Amanto technology. It was cheap enough to mass produce to where even ice cream doesn't even need to be immediately refrigerated anymore.

"Fine," he grumbles. In the corner of the theatre, he spots Kondo and Kyuubei, keeping a sharp eye on him.

Idiots. It wasn't as if he was on a date or anything.

The sixth sequel of Aliens versus Yakuza is a fun ride. There's a lot of monologing, with Jo-aniki declaring to the audience "Kill them all, or be killed!". It might even be an allegory for the remnants of the Jouishishi war, but Gintoki isn't one to do a deep analysis on a movie of all things and instead enjoys the special effects and the corny dialogue.

In between the action sequences his mind goes elsewhere.

It's not like him to snoop, but today is actually his birthday, and for all their valiant attempts of trying to hide the secret from him, he knows that there's going to be a surprise party waiting for him once the movie is over.

Idly, he wonders who is going to show up, because the last time they had a get-together in the cabaret club, there'd been a hefty amount of property damage. Most of it, he admitted, had been his fault, but there was another person who'd been just as notorious in the "please don't invite them to any more drinking parties" department.

Well, Hasegawa had been more than happy to work off the debt...

All of a sudden, there's an explosion on-screen, and his eyes snap back to the movie, happy to be distracted from thinking about that particular person. For now.

* * *

They make him close his eyes and he acts every bit the fool, biting back a smile as he listens to whispers of "Shhh! He's coming, keep quiet!" when they start to approach Otose's Snack House.

The door opens, and hollers of "SURPRISE!" echo throughout the bar, which has been transformed into a room considerably less grimy than its usual state. Paper flowers and chains hang from the ceilings, and there's a banner on the bar that says _Happy birthday, Gintoki!_

Even though he's left this part of town for the last two years, there are some things that he wouldn't change for the world. Thirty one, and he still never gets over the novelty of actual people, gathering around to celebrate his birthday. He blinks back the dew in his eyes, letting his hair droop over them ever so slightly before giving the motley crowd a big, cheesy grin.

"Welcome back, son," Otose says fondly, a familiar cigarette resting on her fingers.

Gintoki grumbles. "Granny, you know I've been here for almost a year already."

"Doesn't make it any less true," Otose replies, and with a quiet lift of her eyebrow, summons Shinpachi, who comes over with the strawberry shortcake, placing it on the nearest table. Kagura lights up the candles carefully so that the tiny flames won't go out.

It's Catherine who starts the Happy Birthday song, and then the rest of the motley crew joins in - Otose; in her slow and measured, husky voice, tempered by decades of smoking, Kagura; who sings off-key but with the genuine joy of a child, Shinpachi; who couldn't hold a tune to save his life yet tries anyway, and Tama; who is the best of them all, thanks to her AutoZune capabilities.

When they finish, and beckon him to blow them all out, he makes a silent wish: to never have to walk away from them, and this town, ever again.

Once the cake is sliced, the presents are bestowed on him, which is a new tradition that they've incorporated since the last time they'd ever celebrated his birthday. Having taken his company for granted, it'd been a bit of an impressive haul back then, but he hadn't expected it to continue. Not after leaving them for two years.

Shinpachi and Kagura present him another yukata - he'd been slowly accumulating a few more of them, so it was much appreciated. Otae would gift him a year-long pass to Snack Smile. Otose, Catherine, and Tama give him a bottle of aged, fine whiskey. From the Shinsengumi there was a box of homemade strawberry jam, imported from the Bushu countryside.

"Oh, Gin-san, there were more packages," Tae said, smiling. "The ninjas gave you a box of chocolates."

"Huh." They were shaped in the shape of shuriken. He'd probably put them under his secret underground stash later - Kagura would eat the whole lot of them otherwise. He hoped Zenzou hadn't poisoned them, but they'd been on pretty good terms lately, so maybe he hadn't.

Shortly afterwards, Catherine stood on the bar, proclaiming free drinks for everyone, and then the real party got started. Gintoki been so enamoured with everybody else that the guests had missed another package sitting on another table.

By that time the bar had been completely wrecked, he'd been a complete mess. Unconscious, even.

* * *

The package goes unnoticed for a few days until Tama knocks on his door, and Gintoki is grumpy because she had interrupted his afternoon nap.

"Gintoki-sama, I believe this is a birthday present from Tsukuyo-dono." The robot flashes him a smile. "Would you like me to scan the contents?"

He yawn and rubs his eyes, his bad mood mysteriously vanishing in seconds. "Nah, I'm good, thanks." He takes the package, before noting the hopeful look in her eyes. "I s'pose you'd want to find out what's in it, eh?"

"If you don't mind," the robot maid says politely, and he scoffs, before inviting her in.

"C'mon in then," Gintoki says gruffly. "I might even have a can of gasoline somewhere."

She takes a seat in front of the coffee table while he rummages in the kitchen. He finds a liter of diesel and a straw in the cupboard, and sets it down on the coffee table in front of her.

"When did she drop it here, anyway?"

"About noontime," Tama reports, and takes a sip of her fuel. "She told me that she couldn't come because of work."

"Typical," Gintoki replies without a touch of resentment. The present had been wrapped in newspaper with no touch of sentimentality whatsoever. He tears the paper apart and finds two bottles of...

 _Shampoo_? And _conditioner_?

Tama giggles.

"For chemically straightened hair," she reads out loud while picking up one of the bottles, her eyes scanning its contents. "Perhaps she was under the impression that you were going to get a Brazilian blowout?"

Gintoki scowls. Unfortunately, his memory is better than he'd like it to be.

_"Gin-san! We got something! One of Otose's customers gave us some information on Lady Suzuran!"_

_"SHEDDUP!"_

_"Oh, what a coincidence? Yer also buyin' some Sheddep for that mop you call hair?"_

_"It ain't Sheddep, it's Sheddup! I'm trying fix this natural perm, dammit!"_

He rises from the table.

" ** _I am going to kill her_** ," Gintoki announces, before standing up to throw away the newspaper. "I don't care if I get my balls torn off. She has absolutely no right to emasculate me like that! How am I supposed to retain any self-respect, if I can't even go a single day without my hair being disrespected like this?!"

"But Gintoki - "

"I don't care if this is misogyny, dammit! Look at the downfall of society, with all these herbivore men bowing down to these carnivore women! Do you think we got this far on just the efforts of women?! It takes two to build a city, for God's sake - "

"Gintoki, there's something you forgot," Tama says, pointing out a small object on the floor. "It fell out while you were throwing away the wrapping paper."

* * *

Otose is the only one near him who has a library card, but she's grumpy about him borrowing it. He wheedles it out of her anyway, and when he slips away, tells the old woman that she'll won't miss it for too long when he's gone.

Besides, he doesn't have the money for an internet café, so the library will have to do.

The mystery is intriguing.

The assistant librarian comes and helps him plug in the USB stick into the monitor - which is the mysterious object that had fallen out of the package. He's not the most savvy with technology - he can handle the radio and television just fine, but anything to do with the internet is beyond his capabilities. The assistant is kind enough to open the files, and there's a folder with a title that says, " _Read This_ " at the very top. She clicks on it and opens a word document, which is a letter addressed to him.

He clears his throat, and the assistant rises up to leave, smiling. "Let me know if you need any more help," she says, and he nods.

When he starts reading the letter, he can already imagine Tsukuyo struggling with the computer, eyes squinting, pipe in mouth as she slowly types the characters from the keyboard. The thought of it is somehow sweet and comforting, rather than funny. Love really has a way of smoothing away a person's idiosyncrasies, he thinks.

_Dear Gintoki,_

_Shu*sha didn't start uploading their manga on the internet until you came back to the city last year, so I figured that this would be the easiest way for you to catch up in the time you were away. Do they have Shonen Weekly Jump in places outside of Edo? I wasn't sure, so I kept buying the volumes each week until it became a bit of a bad habit. Then Hinowa said it was ridiculous that I was buying so much manga without reading it, plus she complained that it was cluttering up the house. So I started collecting the tankoban volumes instead, and rented out a storage room for them. Unfortunately, they started to get a bit moldy, being that Yoshiwara is an underground city and all that, so I had to save them in a different way._

_Once I figured how to scan all the pages properly onto the computer, I organized the chapters into numerical order for you. There's Punter x Punter, Gintaman, One Elbow Man... I wasn't sure which series was your favorite, so I decided to put all of them onto a memory stick. This one's supposed to be fool proof; I guess you can stick it into a tablet or a laptop, and it works the same way according to the shopkeeper. I even have a backup stick in case the files get corrupted, so don't worry if somehow you screw this one up._

_I hope you like my gift, and happy birthday._

_Tsukuyo_

_P.S. The shampoo and conditioner is supposed to be really good even if you never straighten your hair._

When Gintoki finishes reading the letter, he starts to laugh.

Fuck.

He's really in trouble now.

* * *

He's standing in a payphone near the library, an ancient relic after smartphones had taken over Edo. Still, he managed to find one, to his relief.

"You're sure about this?" Gintoki asks Sacchan.

 _"One hundred percent,"_ the kunoichi says. _"I'm positive of it. I wouldn't lie to you about this, I promise."_

"Swear on it."

_"Uh, I can't? We're on the phone, remember?"_

He hangs up on her anyway, sighing to himself.

The USB stick feels like a hot coal of guilt in his pocket, but it also feels more reassuring than anything he's held in a while. After he steps out from the phone booth and into the afternoon sun, he thumbs it like a lucky stone of sorts.

Ketsuno Ana's forecast told him Libras were supposed to have good luck this morning, so he hopes with all his heart that today might be one of those days where nothing goes wrong. Still, when he ignites the engine on his motorbike, his heart is beating at a million miles a minute. He barely registers the traffic lights, and gets to the parking lot near the entrance of the underground district in record time. By now he's so familiar with where he's going that no one bats an eye when he finally stops in front of _Hino-ya_.

"Oh, Gintoki!" Hinowa slowly makes her way towards him, her cane supporting her legs. "It's not a Monday."

"Where is she?" he asks, and he's embarrassed that he's a little out of breath. Something twinkles in Hinowa's eyes. "She's on patrol shift. Block C, if you know where that is."

"Thanks," he mutters, before heading off.

He spots Tsukuyo interrogating some poor schmuck, and he's hanging on a thread, strung up with her kunai.

"Like I said," she says brightly, her voice tinged with a touch of sadism that makes him shiver involuntarily. "It's a bit unbecomin' for ya to keep grovelling at a courtesan that doesn't care for you, don'tcha think?"

"Of - of course! I - I won't d-do it again, I promise!"

"Better not be," the Sun of Yoshiwara remarks, and then throws a kunai at his forehead anyways, expertly knocking the fellow out.

She turns around only to see Gintoki staring at her impassively, and her eyes widen at the sight of him. "Oh! Wha - what are ya doing here?" she stammers, a faint blush decorating her cheeks.

"We have to talk," he says.

When she lifts an eyebrow, he shoves his left hand into his pocket, feeling the USB stick sitting there. Reassuring him. "Alone," he adds.

"All right," she says, shrugging, and they walk to an alleyway that's mostly secluded from the main walking street. She folds her arms together, composed and collected. As expected of the former Shinigami Dayuu.

"So what's up?"

"It's this," Gintoki says. He holds up the USB stick, and her face suddenly shifts into something more bland. More neutral.

He sort of fumbles the first question, but hell. It's a first for either of them, he supposes. "How long?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long... have you... "

_Been in love with me?_

But that thought - that singular thought - almost causes him to choke. He turns red at even _thinking_ about saying it out loud.

_Get it together, man! You couldn't make a move back then, but the time is now!_

He coughs, and she blinks.

"Gintoki, are you okay? If you're not, then - "

He shakes his head vigorously. _I am friggin' thirty one years old_ , he repeats to himself. _I am not going to chicken out, I am **not** going to chicken out--_

After he clears his throat, he looks at the ground. So uncool. He's the main character of a highly acclaimed Shonen Jump series, goddammit!

"Howlonghaveyoubeeninlovewithme?"

Now Tsukuyo is giving him a look of concern. "Sorry?"

He's already praying to the heavens above for a quick death, because he knows he's going to die of embarrassment at this rate. Infuriated, he casts a glare at the sky. _Kill me now, Satan! Or God! Whoever's up there, hope you're having a good laugh right now because I'm certainly not!_

Gintoki rubs his eyes and then takes a deep breath. "For Christ's sake, woman! How long have you been in love with me?"

Her eyes widen, and now the panic is rolling in like an avalanche. "Oh. Um... " Now she's steadily growing pinker and pinker. "I guess... I'm not sure?"

Okay.

He can work with this.

(Still, he's Sakata Gintoki, so he can't stop himself from cracking jokes even though he knows this is _so_ not the time or place for it.)

"What kind of answer is that? Aren't you supposed to come up with some backstory when I did something unexpectedly sweet or - "

"Why do you care?" she snaps back, and her cheeks are so red that they nearly glow in the dark. "Are ya here to make fun of me? It just happened, okay? I didn't _want_ it to happen, and trust me, if I had my way I woulda picked someone with way better hair and more money, but hey, I was unlucky enough to fall in love with _you_!"

He swallows. "I just thought... I thought you were friend zoning me."

_Whether it's spring or winter, once in a while I like being next to you like this and blowin' poison gas in your face. That's enough to make me happy._

_I wish to think of you as an equal._

Tsukuyo snorts, and turns her head away. "I was the bigger idiot for still liking you after the way you acted that entire arc," she huffs. "But really, I'm not that hung over it. I like you, but I figured I never had a chance."

"Are you kidding? I don't even have two hundred yen on me right now, much less two hundred million yen... " Gintoki sighs, and ruffles his hair. "What kind of attitude is that, giving up before the race even begins? You oughtta look at yourself in a mirror once in a while, Tsukki."

Her eyes narrow. "What are you saying, then?"

"I'm saying that I'm in love with you, too."

There's a pause, before the words sink in, and her blush turns even worse. She takes a step away from him.

"Gintoki, please don't make fun of me anymore. I'm beggin' ya, this isn't funny. Maybe this is how you get your kicks, but - "

"You want me to prove it to you?" he asks.

"I'm telling you, stop it - "

He holds up three fingers. "Keep your hands off my woman. The Shinigami Tayuu is eternally mine; I won't let anyone lay a single finger on her."

"But that was - "

One finger slips down, with two remaining. "When it comes to a woman I really want to make a move on, I can't do it like I usually do."

Her lips are pursed, but he's not panicking now, feeling more in control of the situation than he ever has.

Now all that's left is his index finger. He folds it down. "If it's what you want, I don't mind being only yours."

She chews on her lip. "You were under the influence of the incense. I - I don't... I don't believe you meant all those things."

"Is there any incense now?" he asks.

"No, but... "

"Then just shut up, okay? This is real. I'm trying to get my life in order to move on from my past, and I want _you_ in it."

"But why?"

He sighs. For a woman that painfully, utterly, and damnably beautiful, it's almost a tragedy how she never gives a single thought to the possibility that _maybe_ , just once, he might have reciprocated her feelings someday.

Maybe the real demon here is him, for making such a good woman sit on the sidelines while he's trying to get his head sorted out. Still... better late than never, he supposes. And it's not like he's a decrepit old man yet.

"You waited for me, Tsukuyo. You ... "

_Saved me._

_Made me feel like I wasn't alone._

_Accepted me for who I am._

He turns away, and looks at the wall, suddenly overwhelmed. "You're the only one I could ever see by my side," he admits, and sighs. "I just... never got enough of my shit together, until now, to tell you."

Life just threw him enough curve balls to stop him from having a perfectly normal life, unrelenting in its honest brutality. He was mostly strong enough to handle them, one by one. But he'd known from an early age, he'd always wanted to be an ordinary man. Not a rich one, not a poor one, but just enough to eke out his own happiness.

And maybe... Maybe the person in front of him might be the key to unlocking all of those possibilities.

"Gintoki."

He looks at her, and sees her eyes shimmering with emotion.

"Did you mean it? All those things you said, long ago?"

This time, he doesn't turn his eyes away from hers. It's the wave of vulnerability that scares the shit out of him right now, but fuck it. He's faced scarier monsters than whatever he's feeling in his head right now. He's fallen into the abyss, walked through hell, lost almost everything he's ever had, including his own life at times - but what's mattered, even with every bad thing that's happened to him, is that he's _lived_ to tell the tale.

And despite all of these circumstances, he's in the process of repairing his bruised, aching heart over, and over again, to where he finally feels brave enough for once to let someone else into the fold.

"I always did."

She chuckles, before taking his face into her hands.

"I always knew you'd come back," she whispers, right before kissing him.

And just like that, they fit together, perfectly. Like two parts, of a whole.

\- tbc


	7. ultraviolet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked my readers if they liked long chapters, and they said they did, so here is this monster of a chapter, LOL. The title is taken from a FKA Twigs song. 
> 
> First half is porn with feelings (the "eventual smut" tag finally shines here), but the second half is just a lot of feelings. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my friend CeeJay who will be taking a lot of exams today. Best of luck to you, my friend!

It turns out that patrolling with his girlfriend probably isn't so much working a shift as much as it is an excuse to make out in the alleyways and to skive off duty while pulling her into seedy establishments in order to play hooky.

Of course, she's not exactly thrilled with it, but mostly he gets away with whatever he feels like doing. He's Sakata motherfuckin' Gintoki, and hey - the series has ended! He's not contractually obliged to stay single anymore, so why would he turn down an opportunity to date the prettiest girl in Edo? Maybe it's true that he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's not _that_ stupid.

" _Enough_ ," she says, after the third time he's pulled her over for a "break". "I'm supposed ta be workin', here! What would my subordinates think if they saw us doing this all the time?"

"That we're in love?" he asks, and predictably, she blushes.

"So what?" she retorts. "I still have a job to do here!"

"Tsukki, you work twenty-nine days out of the month. You've been keeping this city safe since you were what - fourteen? Fifteen? If anyone deserves a break, it's you, isn't it?"

"As opposed ta someone who works two days of the month?"

"You know I deserve those days off," he says, grinning. She mutters something more insulting, but he can't pick up on it, so he chooses instead to pull her into a hug.

"Don't freak out, I get it," and now he's more serious. "You want a proper outing. Well, Gin-san will try his best, so please let him think of something before next time, okay?"

Her mouth is muffled against his shoulder, but he can tell that she's mollified for time being. "Okay."

* * *

Officially, their first date is at a bar. They wreck it, and then they move on to the next, right until the fifth one finally kicks them out and they walk out, dazed when the sunrise greets them with its shining rays of light.

The second date takes place in a bubble tea joint, where Gintoki orders a strawberry flavored monstrosity of a drink with 100% sugar and no ice. She settles for a modest taro milk tea, 25% sugar and some ice, to dilute the sweetness, and then they basically argue about whether the ending of _Neon Genesis: Evangelion_ had any artistic merit to it.

"It's _disgustin_ '," she says ardently, and shakes her cup lightly, so the ice has better distribution through her drink. "That part where Shinji masturbates to Asuka - what was the point of _that_?"

"You don't know what it's like to be a teenage boy!" he protests, and the conversation takes a turn where the customers start to stare at them. They don't care.

Their third date is at an amusement park, naturally on her dime. She likes the roller coasters. He doesn't, but he takes full advantage of the Ferris wheel.

If any of the Gintama cast spot them together, the protocol has been to deny, deny, deny. They figure it's best to be discreet, even though every time they spot another person they know, the name of the game is to outrun them. Since they're both in relatively good shape, this isn't very hard to do, though he fully expects people to eventually put two and two together.

It's been a very long time since he's been capable of having unadulterated _fun_ without feeling guilty; and he finds that with Tsukuyo, his only obligation is to make her laugh. It's not about protecting someone on his back, nor is it making sure a promise is carried out for a lifetime. Sometimes they argue about stupid stuff - she wants him to eat more vegetables and to visit the dentist probably more than once every a decade - but mostly, they just talk and sometimes make out while doing other things at the same time. It could be her showing him how the latest pachinko machines work, or it could be the fact that she's never had a parfait before. Anything and everything is an excuse provided she's got time off, and for him, she does.

If someone had told him a while ago that dating wasn't actually scary - and make no mistake, he has every reason to be scared of someone who was perfectly capable of ripping his dick off without a second glance - he probably would have done more of it.

The kids probably suspect something, but they don't bother to confront him about it. He's happy, and still not paying them a liveable wage.

The perfect opportunity for their next date comes next week, when he and his kids finish a job dog walking some D-list celebrity's pack of mutts while they're away, vacationing on Planet Waiiha. Once they return the snappy Chihuahuas back to a monstrously garish mansion, Kagura announces "I'm sleeping over at Soyo's," - as if she's not seeing the actual Prime Minister of Japan on a casual basis - and Shinpachi needs to get back to the dojo to do some deep cleaning.

He might have been a bit upset a while ago, to spend another evening with the privacy of his own thoughts, but now's a better opportunity than most. He makes a phone call.

"Come over to my place," he wheedles, and he can almost see her rolling her eyes at the tone of his voice. "I'll even pick you up from the elevators. How about eight o'clock?"

"Fine," she replies, and hangs up. He'd be offended if he didn't know her so well, with her prickly demeanor that just barely disguises a soft interior.

When he arrives, the sky is a bit cloudy, but he doesn't think much of it until he stops by the elevators down to the red light district, turning off the engine to his motorbike. Tsukuyo is predictably on time, waiting for him with a scowl, and he descends with his typical smile.

"Late," she says frostily, but he plucks out a singular hairpin from his pocket - a simple ornament with a crescent moon attached on the end - and carefully tucks it into her hair.

"Sorry," he replies, smirking a bit when her cheeks turn pink at how close they are to each other. "I was, ah, doing some _shopping_ on the surface for some girly things. Wanted to do something uncharacteristic of me, for once. Payment for the shampoo and conditioner, you see."

She flushes even more at his teasing. "I hate you."

He laughs. "No you don't." He tilts his head back a bit, evaluating her profile from the side. "Hm... It looks really good on you."

"Does it?" she asks shyly, but pleased with his praise all the same.

"Yeah. But you've always had a pretty face, so it wouldn't have made a big difference either way."

She tugs at the hem of her kimono, and looks away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. "Gintoki, you shouldn't have."

"Don't worry about it, I wanted to," he reassured her. "These will last a lot longer than flowers or _dango_ \- although, to be fair the Japanese drama was pretty good, too - "

"Gintoki."

"Hm?"

"Shut up," she says, and places a kiss on his cheek. "And thank you."

Now he's the one who's flustered, but he'd be damned if he'd let her see. He turns his head away, coughing loudly before handing her a helmet. "Already ignoring what your boyfriend has to say? Here."

She takes it, the corner of her lips upturned. "Where's yours?"

"Didn't have enough money to buy another one."

"But - "

"Just take it, silly woman. If we don't get back to Kabuki-chou soon, it'll start pouring rain."

"All right," she says.

* * *

The rain comes anyway, sloshing and pouring down on the both of them while he's turning the corner around the familiar seedy district. His white and blue yukata is drenched, and Tsukuyo shivers slightly as he brakes the motorbike, turning off the engine once they're under Otose's rooftop.

"Sorry about this," he apologizes, and they both walk upstairs, where he slides open the door, shucking his boots off. "Wait here," he tells Tsukuyo, and she does, while he rummages in the bathroom for a few clean towels. Tousling her hair dry, she wipes her face clean and then takes off her pink haori to hang dry on a nearby hook, which thankfully, has borne the brunt of the rain.

"Thanks," she says, and now she takes off her boots, too, making sure that it's not too much of a mess in the foyer. Then she hooks off her fishnet stockings and neatly curls them up into a ball for later use, letting her feet breathe for a bit until she has to leave. He's glad for that; the shoes don't seem all that comfortable to be standing on all day.

"Want anything to drink?" he asks, heading to the kitchen after she's settled on the couch.

"Tea, if ya have it."

"Right-o," he replies, and puts the kettle on boil. "Uh, I also got some takeaway before I picked you up from work."

"That's really nice of you."

"It's quite all right," he says. "I cook for the kids all the time, so don't worry about it. It's nice to not have to do it once in a while."

There are plastic boxes filled with croquettes and fried _gyoza_ , and the rice cooker setting is placed on warm. He opens a jar of ponzu sauce and spoons out a bit of sauce into the dipping dishes. When the kettle starts to whistle, he pours boiling water into a mug, letting the tea seep for a few minutes.

He takes a deep breath. Even though they've done things together like overturning the government, fighting bad guys on the run, and through no fault of each other, finding out things that they'd _both_ rather keep to themselves, this is basically uncharted territory for him. So far, they've had a good run of dates, where second base might have been crossed once or twice - but inviting a woman he's basically pledged eternal monogamy to into his apartment... it seems to imply a lot more than whatever they've done so far.

Then again, it's not like he's got that kind of seedy intentions; he's a bastard, but not a complete animal. He's got his favorite movie on - _My Neighbor Pedoro 2_ \- and he's absolutely prepared to make an absolute prat of himself as long as she's comfortable.

There's already a small serving basket of _senbei_ on the coffee table, and she bites into one of the crackers when he comes out with both of their teas.

"Where are the kids?" she asks, after taking a sip of her beverage. "I thought I was going to see 'em today."

"Ah, Kagura's off hanging with a buddy, and Patsuan had to do some managerial duties."

"Oh? If I didn't know you any better, I thought you invited me here ta seduce me," Tsukuyo says playfully, and he scowls.

"Don't be silly," he replies. "I just thought it'd be a nice change of pace to meet on the surface."

"It is," she agrees.

Strangely, the movie doesn't make him cry this time, mostly because he's spent most of his time staring at her, thinking about her, or snacking on sweets. Her feet are propped up on the table, and she being the overly annoying, serious person that she is, analyzes every plot hole and flaw she can think of while the film is playing on his second-hand DVD player. The rain continues to pound relentlessly against the roof.

"But what if Pedoro actually just communicated with the kids?" she asks, bewildered, when the ending credits are rolling. "Then none of this silly trouble with his neighbors woulda happened, and no one would've gotten hurt - "

"Tsukki."

"What?"

"Shut up," he says.

"I'm just saying!"

"It's a friggin' movie," he says. "It doesn't have to be perfectly logical to be a good story."

"But if it's not logical, it'll break immersion," she argues.

"Does it matter? What matters is how people feel," Gintoki explains. "And now, I know _you're_ probably ready to go home, because I'm never going to play you another movie ever again."

"How do those things _not_ bother you?" Tsukuyo asks indignantly. "Like, what about the cheesy special effects, or the staged acting that's designed to make you cry - mmph!"

He shuts her up by the way he knows best; kissing her, pressing her against the back of the couch, letting his fingers weave through her hair. When he retreats, he's greeted with a pink flush.

"Okay. Now you _really_ have to go home," he says firmly. "Lemme call you a cab."

He rolls off her before she grabs him by his sleeve.

"What?"

She's still blushing. "But what... what if I don't want to go home?"

He stares at her, before the implications sink in. He's uncool enough to turn red. "Um... I don't have two hundred million yen on me, Tsukki."

"Hey! Not askin' you to buy me, here."

Okay. Different approach then.

"I don't have any rubbers."

"I've got... some." With a shaky hand she takes out the prophylactics from her pocket.

"Who gave you those?" he asks, actually amazed that someone like the Courtesan of Death is capable of carrying those around.

"Hinowa. She... she said that when a guy invites a woman over to his house, there's one thing they're lookin' for, so I figured better safe than sorry... "

"Is that what you were planning for? Well, I'm afraid to say you can't seduce Gin-san like a cheap lay. He's a gentlemen, not a rent boy."

He expects her to be relieved, but on the contrary, the exact opposite happens.

"You... don't wanna do it with me?" Tsukuyo asks, and now she's actually on the verge of looking sad. Oh, god.

"I do, but not right now," he conceded reluctantly, anything to stop her from making that expression. "But I don't wanna get steamrolled just 'cause we're moving too fast, yeah? You're the first person that's ever made me this happy, and I don't want to fuck it up. I really just wanted to have dinner and a movie, to be honest. "

"You're not gonna fuck it up," she says. "I mean, ya did with other people before, right? Or was that all for show, and you're actually a cherry boy?"

"I'm not a cherry boy! I just haven't done that kinda stuff with virgins!" he argues defensively, not exactly sure why he's trying to self-sabotage him chances of getting laid. "And anyways, it's... been a while since I... did it with someone." (Sober, at least. Even Hasegawa would collectively agree _that time_ didn't count.)

"Oh," she says, and mulls over his words. "But I'm not _that_ inexperienced," she says thoughtfully. "I've been... um... sort of figuring things out."

The implication of it sends a hot curl of desire in his loins, which he valiantly tries his best to ignore. "... What do you mean?"

"I mean I've used vibrators before. Trying to figure out where my hot spots were."

Fuck, that's hot to imagine. He swallows uneasily. "Well, yeah, but sex is a bit different."

"Yeah, of course, but I'm... ready. I've... " Her cheeks bloom. "What I'm tryin' to say is that maybe it's okay to take things fast, because I... I waited for you to come back. So... it doesn't feel all that fast for me. And... maybe we could figure out things together?"

Well, when she put it that way... how could any sane man say no to that kind of offer?

"How many of them have you got, then?" he asks, gesturing towards the condoms.

"Th-three," she stammers, although this time, there's a gentler smile on her face.

* * *

Kabuki-chou has its fair share of love hotels, and it doesn't take long until they spot a place that doesn't look entirely too seedy. Before either of them can chicken out, Tsukuyo tugs him towards the front desk, and they give him a plastic sleeve for his umbrella. He's grateful that he doesn't recognize anybody at the front desk.

Buoyed by her own confidence, they end up in a room which thankfully is clean and free of anything that might ruin the mood. Tsukuyo kneels in front of him, slowly untying the red sash of her kimono, but he can see that her fingers - which normally don't hesitate when it comes to throwing kunais, or knocking his head upside down - are trembling ever so slightly.

He gives her one last get-out-of-jail card. "We really don't have to do this."

"I want to."

Before he can react, her kimono pools around her knees, and _holy shit_ \- she's wearing a matching set of lacy black bra and panties. His eyes are riveted, because the last time he's ever seen her body like this was the pool episode - and back then, he'd obviously been in denial of how incredibly hot she was, thinking he had no chance to land someone like her.

"Like what you see?" she teases, and even though she's pink all-around, it doesn't stop her from smirking a little bit.

"Never thought you were ugly in the first place," he snaps back at her. It only boosts her confidence though.

"Wanna touch them?"

Gintoki glares at her, convinced that it's a big trick to get German suplexed, like the rare opportunities/accidents that he's had to grope her. "You're gonna hit me, aren't you? This is another elaborate trap to punk me, isn't it?"

"Promise you I won't."

Her tits are too friggin' big and alluring for him to give up the opportunity, for all his protestations, and so he gives in to his baser natures, cursing himself when his hand touches base with her left breast, squeezing it every so slightly. It's even softer than he remembers.

Her chest heaves, excited by the touch. "What do you think?" she whispers, and he swallows, throat suddenly dry.

"Think you'd better take your bra off," he replies thickly, and she nods a quick assent before reaching behind her, unclasping the undergarment off. The view is spectacular, and though he's spent far more time than he'd preferred imagining what her chest looks like, seeing it in real life has to rank up there with seeing the Mona Lisa. It's just as good as fine art, if you asked his opinion.

He hadn't realized she was _this_ serious about going all the way. He'd been under the impression that at any moment, that she'd panic; to hear her say that she couldn't do this. He thought she'd run off after realizing she was unprepared for the inevitable vulnerability required with such acts of intimacy. It was why some people needed to drink to let go of their inhibitions, why some people needed the heat of passion to abandon all reason before allowing themselves to enjoy having sex with someone.

But it was clear she didn't need those reasons to finally take the next step in their relationship. Her heart had already arrived at a conclusion that would never waver, even as flawed of a human being that he was, and would continue to be.

"You can touch them again, if you like."

"But my nose is gonna bleed if I do that," he says.

"What are you, in high school?" She clucks her tongue, but blushes all the same. They're really not used to doing this kind of thing, which is hilarious considering that they've done infinitely more dangerous and cooler things together, like throwing down despots and killing their masters either in a dark room or the final battle against the universe.

"It's not my fault you're so hot! How about you start touching me instead?" he snaps, already heated and bothered this early in the game. Fucking amateur hour, really.

She's not one to back down from a challenge. "Okay, fine!"

With nimble fingers, she slowly unzips his black shirt down. The sensation gives him goosebumps, and when she reaches the bottom, he shucks it off easily. The tip of her index lightly traces a faded scar that stretches from his pectorals all the way to his shoulder, and her gaze turns unexpectedly serious.

"Where did _that_ come from?"

"The war," he admits. "It was a long time ago."

Now her hand runs reverently across his chest, reading a history of fights and defeats in the ridges and whorls of his skin. For a moment, he can't tell what she's thinking, but the shift in mood calms both of them down. After all, this is their common ground, this is how they met - not in the humdrum of everyday life, but in the heat of battle.

Her eyes are profoundly sad. "Gintoki... "

"Hey. Don't worry about these. It's all in the past." When he finally catches her fingers in his hand and stills them, she meets his gaze. He kisses the back of her hand and then rests it against his cheek. "What matters is that you're in my future now."

He leans towards her and kisses her. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it, and this time she responds with a hum of pleasure, letting him explore the crook of her mouth, savoring every press of his lips against hers. His fingers trace her back, dips into her shoulder blades, and skims her skin.

She really was perfect.

Inhibitions finally lowered, he pushes her gently towards the futon and rocks his hips against hers, enough to familiarize him with her body.

He pulls her panties down, and parts her legs.

"What are ya doin'?" she asks weakly, but he just shushes her.

"Opening you up," he says. "Relax, virgin."

She chuckles. "Won't be, for long."

He sucks his fingers, making sure they're sufficiently wet before thumbing her slit. To his surprise, her entrance presses inside his digit with minimal resistance, muscles fluttering around him as he started to work her open.

"Fuck, guess you weren't kidding about wanting this, huh."

" _Nnngh_."

With care, he slides another finger in, feeling her ridges and softly pressing upwards. If he's lucky, he might be able to find her G-spot, and his suspicions are confirmed when her hips jerk up violently, almost knocking him off kilter.

"Careful, woman! I wouldn't wanna leave you hanging just because you knocked me out too early."

"S-sorry," she apologizes, and he returns his gaze to her face. Unexpectedly, there's a soft sheen of sweat on her skin, a certain heated flush playing across her cheeks as his fingers continues to carefully stroke her, slowly but insistently. She looks _wrecked_ , and in a good way.

He unzips his own pants, pumping himself as he lowers his mouth to the entrance of her heated core. It's not hard for him to find her clit, and as soon as he does, he sucks. She hisses, her fingers tightening in his hair as he continues to lap away in tandem with his fingers, trying to extricate that sweet rhythm of both clitoral and G-spot stimulation. Her hips buck up, once, and he reaches out for one of breasts, cupping them while giving her nipple a good twist.

The way she wails in response, ragged and muffled as she presses the back of her hand into her mouth so that the neighbors can't hear, feels like a surrender of will to him. It's a complete sign of her trust in his hands, and of her submission, if he was in any state of mind to appreciate it.

Instead, it goes straight to his dick.

He pushes a third finger inside her, and by this time she's slick, loosened by the stimulation from before. "Th-there," she chokes out, in a breathy whisper. "Right there, oh god, please, please, _please_ \- " Her eyes are glossy, lips wet from licking them.

It's the begging that nearly causes him to lose his mind. He quickens the speed of his fingers, following the same tempo that he's kept up from before, and relentlessly fucks her with his fingers until she comes, wailing again with an intensity that causes her thighs to quiver, the hot liquid sloshing down his palms.

Fuck. If _that_ wasn't an ego-boost of some sort, he doesn't know what that might be.

Still, he's not one hundred percent sure if this means he has permission to proceed further. "You okay?"

She pants, her lungs gasping for air. "Y-yeah. Just give me a minute... "

Splayed obscenely out on his futon, and looking freshly fucked, she's a wonder to behold. None of his previous partners has ever reacted like this to him before, _ever._ He's humble enough to admit that he's mostly shit in bed due to either being way too drunk to enjoy the experience, not knowing how to properly take off their clothes and ruining the mood, or just lying there, deadfishing it and expecting the courtesans to do all the hard work of riding him to climax. But the look on her face, combined with how vocal she'd been, especially for someone who'd he previously judged to have almost no experience, made him really want to work for it properly.

As expected of a woman of Yoshiwara, he thinks. Sexual compatibility aside, he already feels greedy, like he's asking for too much. It's one thing to have an insanely hot girlfriend in the first place, but to be able to make her cum, like _that_?

He's a lucky boy, is what he is.

When the flush fades a bit from her cheeks, he rolls over her, teasing her a bit. "Better than your vibrators?"

At this, her inhibitions have lowered considerably to where she admits, " _So_ much better." And then flicks him in the forehead when he smirks. "Don't get a big head, ya beast. We'll see how long you'll last."

"Ow!"

Even when she's in friggin' _bed_ , and _naked_ , she's still got to get a pot shot in or two. Damn the drunk terminator.

She turns her head and fishes out a nearby condom from under his pillow. "Sorry, you'll have to put this on by yourself. I don't really know how ta put these on with my mouth," she says, and he almost chokes.

"Pretty sure you're _not_ supposed to do that!" he says indignantly after snatching it from her, turning bright red for once. Still, the image she paints in his mind is pretty hot and getting him hard. "You really are a woman of Yoshiwara, aren't you?"

She doesn't bat an eye. "Yeah, and so what? Ya want me to be one of those prissy girls who only put out 'cause their husbands are gettin' them the latest Bitch bag?"

It's a fair point. "Okay, fine," he grumbles, and after he kicks off his pants for good, he tears the wrapper and rolls the prophylactic snugly down his shaft. Once its on, he aligns his member to her entrance. Even the barest touch of it causes her to shudder, still sensitive from her orgasm.

"Scared?"

Tsukuyo shakes her head, _carte blanche_ granted.

He moves in slowly, careful not to cause her any discomfort. Maybe she's properly stretched out now, but he's still her first - and with any luck, if she doesn't get sick of his shit any time soon, her only. With a concentrated effort, he gradually sinks inside her, inch by inch. Even with all the foreplay and oral sex they've had beforehand, she still feels incredibly hot and tight around him, and if he was a man with less self-control, he might've cum on the spot.

He groans as he bottoms out, completely inside her now, and for a moment, none of them speak. Gintoki lowers his head onto her shoulder, letting the both of them adjust to his length, and he can feel her lips grazing his ear.

She's the first one to break the silence. "H-how is it?"

"Pretty good," he breathes. "What about you?"

"Never been better."

Like magnets, their lips meet, now kissing slowly and his hand reaches to meet one of hers, fingers curling perfectly over his.

"You know," he admits, still not moving, "I've always thought of you as my woman," he confesses.

She gives a tiny smile as their noses brush against each others'. "Oh? The main character who's supposed to belong to everyone?"

"Your words, Tsukuyo, not mine," he says. "I never said it, _you_ did."

"Well in that case, I'm glad I was wrong."

He lets go of her hand, placing them on her hips, still smiling. "Ready?"

Nodding, she wraps her arm behind his back.

He starts off slow, but steady; and his eyes are on the lookout for any sign of discomfort, but none comes. Each time he sinks forward, he would feel her legs instinctively clench around his hips, pulling him in deeper still.

To think he was going to chicken out from doing _this_ with her almost an hour ago... _fuck_ , he was glad she roped him into this, because right now, everything feels incredible.

His hips rock against hers, angling it up in a position that causes her to cry out in pleasure, and the rhythm of his thrusts turn more frantic. It was almost as if she was swallowing him in every thrust, and he's transfixed at the sight of his cock filling her completely, stretching her full and tight, covered in her arousal. When he finally tears his eyes away from the lewd sight, he sees that her eyes are screwed tightly shut, the back of one hand covering her moans, and another gripping the sheet of the futon so tightly that it might end up torn.

 _Mine_ , he thinks. _Mine. All mine._

Without missing a beat, he reaches for her hand, and pushes it away from her mouth. "Tsukuyo, look at me," he says urgently. "Tell me what you want."

Her face is a mess, with her hair clinging to her forehead with the combination of both their sweat.

Her eyes are glazed as they meet his. "Gintoki... " Her breaths come out choppy. "I w-wanna come."

"What do you need?"

"C-clit," she gasps, and his thumb instantly presses against it, matching his thrusts. It takes a bit of coordination, but he'd be damned if he finishes before her, and he's rewarded with a squeeze of her muscles, causing him to groan softly.

At this rate, he knows he's not going to last long, either, but he's got a burning need to see her cum. His strokes get a bit shorter and messier, but more intense.

_Whether we live, or die, or come, we'll do it together._

The memory flashes in his mind, and it momentarily distracts him before he turns his attention back to the subject writhing beneath him. Under him. Moaning his name.

"Come on then," he cajoles her, his tone half pleading, half authoritative as he's rutting into her with short, snappy movements of his hips; he's trying to chase her release by aiming for her G-spot. "Come for me."

And like magic, she does.

With a piercing wail, her climax catches the both of them off guard, but he can tell the moment it happens because she arches her back, and clenches her muscles around him so tightly that he can barely breathe. He slows down his movements, trying to memorize the look on her face: flushed, totally uninhibited, hair messily splayed across his pillow. This is a very different woman than the kind he's normally used to seeing, and he wants to sear the image of her into his brain because that's _his_ woman. _He'd_ been the only one to make her feel this way, just him, and him alone.

She quivers like a leaf beneath him as the last tremors of her orgasm passes, eyes glossy and curiously blank. He reaches out, wipes away the moisture from the corner of her eyes, and presses one gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth.

He's still inside her, the desire cooling down in his belly. Regardless, he's willing to wait.

"How was that, then?"

There's a puff of air tickling his eyelashes as she chuckles, and he remembers the first time that he laid eyes on her. _How about I stab you with something better?_

Well, he's done his fair share of the stabbing now.

"Not bad," she says, that dimple appearing in her cheek. "Isn't it your turn, darling?"

It's honestly embarrassing how her voice gets him going, just like that, and he leans into her, and whispers into her ear, "Fuck, you're perfect."

Peppering her shoulders, neck, and chest with kisses, he starts fucking her slow and deep, kindling a deeper desire now that she's already come twice on his account. He moves languidly, as if he has all the time in the world. Even so, it doesn't stop the heat pooling in his stomach, or his balls tightening up.

"Gonna cum soon," he warns, as he presses his face against her neck, feeling her pulse beating like a metronome. She makes a noise of helplessness, shifting her thighs under him before he steadies her. When she raises her hips, the change of angle gives him easier access. He's about to say her name, until he reaches the vinegar stroke.

He's ridiculously close, so, _so_ close -

Before he can even fully prepare for it, a white heat overtakes him, blinding him momentarily as all concept of time vanishes, and nothing matters. He spills himself inside the condom, groaning before he holds himself steady, holding the base of the prophylactic securely before withdrawing from his woman, and tying it into a knot.

His chest heaves as he rolls off to the side, exhausted.

"Holy shit," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. For a while, that's all they can really do - just to breath, and to let the sweat cool off their bodies. The post afterglow is going to last for a while, and he wants to bask in it for once.

He's actually... _happy_.

Without giving a thought to rhyme or reason, he reaches out for her hand. She lets him kiss the back of his fingers, gently. Sweetly.

"You were amazing," he says sincerely. On cue, she blushes.

"Thanks. So... so were you."

He's amused by her sudden shyness, and pokes her forehead affectionately. "Oi, oi, what's with this attitude?"

Not that he's complaining. His type has always been a _tsundere_.

She scowls. "Hey, s-stop talking about embarrassing things!"

He does, and strokes her hair until she falls asleep in his arms, her chest pressed against his. He's aware of the gift he's stumbled across.

And he thinks it might last forever, if he plays his cards right.

But he'll need to get better in different ways. As strong as she is, he still needs to draw on his own inner strength so that he won't drag her down. So in the morning, when she gets dressed for her next shift, he kisses her on the corner of her mouth, and makes another important decision for the two of them.

* * *

"You look different," Hijikata says as they meet up at their usual spot. As always, his fingers are holding a cigarette, his sleeves turned up as he sits on the chair next the countertop. An ashtray rests nearby.

"Oh yeah?" Gintoki asks. "Don't tell me I've grown even more handsome since the last time you saw me. At this rate, I'll be able to land Yoshioka Riho wrapped up in _yatsuhashi_."

"Hell no!" Hijikata retorts, although the corner of his mouth lifts. "I guess you look... happier."

He turns his head and raises two fingers. "One Hijikata special, and that adzuki bean abomination you call food for the Yorozuya."

The owner of the restaurant grins, used to the two of them by now. "Right-o, coming up!"

"I thought they didn't let you smoke at these joints anymore." Gintoki sits down at the counter next to him.

"Oh, well. They let you do that sort of thing once your boss becomes Superintendent," Hijikata says wryly. He checks his watch. "Anyways, I've got about twenty minutes before I have to get back to my paperwork. What's up?"

"Tch, you workaholic," Gintoki scoffs at the man. "You remember that card you gave me a while ago? Well, I lost it."

Hijikata had been in the middle of taking a drag of his cigarette. The change in his eyes had gone from amused to something more serious. "And...?"

"I was wondering if you had another one."

Hijikata finishes his drag. He taps it on his ashtray, his eyes never straying from Gintoki's.

"I've got their number," he says quietly. "But... "

"But?"

"This sort of thing, you can't half-ass it," Hijikata says. "You have to tell the truth, no matter what."

"What happens if you tell the truth?"

Hijikata smiles. "You get better."

* * *

Gintoki hated doctors.

But this one had been new. Instead of a sterile room with cold tiles and the smell of antiseptic, he was sitting in an office decorated with paintings and bookshelves around him.

He was seeing... a therapist.

The idea had made him deeply uncomfortable. It wasn't like he was going to a hospital to fix his limbs and stitch him up brand new. It was something a lot more complicated.

But he called the number that Hijikata had given him a while ago, and he was ready for a change. Call it a new era, or whatever it was. He just wanted to shed his baggage, once and for all.

An attractive older woman opened the door. "Sakata-san?"

He jerked his head upwards, and nodded as if to say "I'm here."

"Come in and take a seat."

He does, and settles into a squashy armchair. It's surprisingly comfortable.

"My name is Dr. Kobayashi. But you can call me Midori, if you like."

She smiles encouragingly, and asks, "How are you doing today?"

"I'm pretty normal," Gintoki says, and then he shrugs. "I'll be honest here - I don't really exactly why I'm here."

"That's fine. We'll just see where things go, OK? Why don't you start by introducing yourself to me?"

"Not much to say. My name's Sakata Gintoki... I'm 31 years old, I work freelance jobs. I live in the Kabuki-chou district, and I like sweets and strawberry milk."

There was a pause while the therapist scribbled down a short note.

"But um..." There was a brow furrowed from the samurai. "It's not like I'm... I dunno, insane - "

Midori leaned backwards in her chair. "I assure you that none of my clients are insane."

"So what do you do, exactly?"

"Talk, mostly. Sometimes my clients want a totally objective perspective on their situation. And sometimes, I help them write behavior plans to help them get unstuck from repeating unhelpful patterns or ways of thinking. It depends on what they want."

"Does it... help?"

"I'd say so. The late Sasaki-san was the patron of our health department when he was the chief of the Mimawarigumi." The therapist smiled kindly. "Back when he was dealing with the death of his wife and child, he needed some medical assistance with his depression. Eventually, over time, he enlarged this department to what it is now, and bequeathed most of his fortune to our department. Many of the police force in Edo from time to time, including the Shinsengumi, need help from the stress of being on duty. A fair few of the former Jouishishi make up their forces, believe it or not. In order to keep the unit functioning properly, we try to treat as many of them as we can for deeper psychological problems."

_Wife and child..._

It's the first time he's heard about it, but it made sense. Zura had mentioned reparations for the lost samurai of the Joui wars, but he hadn't expected it to go this far.

Gintoki sighed. "That texting guy? He never stopped caring, huh..."

"At the end of the day, it's your choice. You're eligible to sign up for half a years' worth of sessions, one every two weeks. We can try a session for now and see if you would like to come back in a few weeks if it suits you. Everything you say or do in this office will remain confidential."

"Okay." And he sighed. He already felt ridiculous at the idea of _talking_ in order solve his problems, feeling every bit of the weight of thirty one years on his shoulders pressing down on him. There wasn't much for him to pontificate, in his opinion. His life felt too complicated to untangle what it all meant - and in front of a stranger, no less, who was paid to care. He wasn't actually sure if he still wanted to confide in anybody.

_Maybe I'll just talk uselessly for half a year, but if it gets rid of these panic attacks, it'll be worth it..._

"How would you describe yourself, Sakata-san?"

"It's Gintoki," he said curtly, before clearing his throat. "I mean, most people don't use my surname. It's just... weird."

The therapist smiled. "No problem," she said smoothly. "So, again - how would you describe yourself, Gintoki?"

"I guess I'm a samurai. I took in two kids and a dog. Um... like I said, I like sweets. My doctor and girlfriend says I'll get diabetes if I keep it up, but so far I've been okay, I think."

"How would your friends describe you, then?"

"Irresponsible asshole, probably. I guess they'd say I drink a little too much, but they all know that I care about them. Even if I don't pay the rent, even if I'm sort of a loser, they'd all risk their life for mine if it came down to it."

"You sound like a good friend."

He laughed hollowly. "I'm not. No I'm not."

Midori leans into him. "Tell me about it. Why don't we start from the beginning?"

* * *

Tsukuyo is smoking while they're lingering in the evening, resting in between stages of sleeping with each other and sleeping next to one another. Tonight, they're in the _zashiki_ room - this time in Yoshiwara, because she'd been working all day.

"So, how was it?" she asks, her bathrobe barely concealing her chest.

"It was okay," Gintoki said. His head was on her lap, eyes closed. "I wouldn't say it was a pleasant experience. I thought the doctor was pretty hot, though."

She whacks his forehead.

"K-kidding," he says hastily, though he bites back a laugh. He's grown too fond of her temper, he thinks.

The therapist had asked him a lot of questions, and it had felt like a huge intrusion of privacy. He wasn't used to people being so upfront about dissecting him, and there were times where he wanted to bolt.

But he forced himself to stay there anyway, in order to tell the truth. Even the ugly ones. As uncomfortable as it was, it had been oddly liberating, just to talk about things he didn't normally talk about.

Midori been interested in Takasugi, and would ask him about his early memories. Some of them had collected dust in his head - like the time they'd fought over who was supposed to be the next person to play _Portopia_. He'd almost forgotten how violent his relationship was with him back then.

"Hmm," Tsukuyo hums, and she threads her fingers through his hair, her index circling his scalp. It's an oddly soothing gesture.

"Keep doing that," he mumbles, right before he takes deeper breaths, and she does.

He falls into a dreamless sleep not too long after.

* * *

Despite her reluctance, Tsukuyo lets him do everything and anything to her. Their first time together was sweet, but the subsequent trysts after aren't.

It feels right, not wrong. She understands what he needs, and complies without a complain. She studies him; and adapts accordingly. And neither does she push for more or oversteps her boundaries; she just lets him take as much as he wants. To give him the space to act selfishly, for once. After all, he's tired of being selfless after years and years of internalizing his burdens, of carrying enough sins to live in the deepest rungs of hell.

There are hundreds of seedy love hotels that proliferate Yoshiwara. Sometimes he picks one that catches his eye. But most of the time, they fuck wherever the closest place is when her shift ends. Him on top of her, or her, straddling her hips on his. Him, always watching her, memorizing the look in her eyes as she shatters into a million pieces, leaving behind an inexorable, glorious mess. Her, taking advantage of his weakness for big boobs and tiny waists, always hurtling him towards the brink of a tiny death whenever she takes the lead. Her, loving how his palms touches her body, and getting to know every inch of her skin, lined with a million faint scars, glittering in the night and fading by daylight. Them, fitting together perfectly like they were made for each other.

(Maybe they weren't - but it doesn't matter. He's never subscribed to the notion of soul mates, and neither does she.)

The nightmares are mostly gone. When one comes back in a roaring vengeance, he turns over. Wakes her up with a kiss. Fucks it away like a bad coping mechanism, but this time the person he's doing it to doesn't mind and arches her back when he hits her right spots.

They don't have to impress each other. Not anymore.

_Laugh when you want to laugh. Cry when you need to cry._

_When you're tearing up with an ugly face, I'll give you a good cry with an uglier face. When you're laughing so hard your stomach hurts, I'll laugh in a louder voice._

_That's how it should be._

* * *

After the fourth or fifth session, Midori asks him, "What's your goal at the end of these sessions?"

Gintoki has to think about it, and he thumbs the USB drive in his pocket. "I don't really have one," he admits. "I just... want to be better."

_Good enough to be someone's husband, maybe. Or least only drink to have fun, rather than to drown my sorrows._

"You'll get there," she reassures him.

He actually likes the therapist, for what it's worth. She's nice and pretty, and tends to be supportive. At first he'd been skeptical of the treatment, thinking that she wouldn't be able to relate to him at all.

But perhaps that was the general appeal of it.

He didn't _really_ want anyone who knew him in real life to know all the ugly details of his history.

Even if they understood what he'd went through since then.

She had given him a prescription for a low dosage antidepressant a few weeks ago, and though he didn't really want to take them, he did it anyway. So far, it'd been okay. It hadn't really made him a zombie as of yet.

He'd been dreading this session for a while, mostly, because they'd wrapped up most of the Joui war. And he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about... _that_.

But it'd been over a decade, and a lot of things had changed since then.

So maybe it was the right time.

"Last time we left off," Midori says, clicking her pen, the tip pressed to her legal notepad, "You were camped in _Tojinbo_. And what happened?"

His hand clenches, and starts to shake. He steadies it with the other.

Gintoki takes a deep breath. "We were ambushed. Probably had less than fifty guys at this point."

"I see."

"It was horrible timing," he admits. "We thought it'd been safe. So we let our guard down, because we were so tired. It was a roundabout route to Edo... Zura had been trying to convince the Kyoto faction to send over more troops. But obviously, it didn't happen."

 _Keep talking_ , he tells himself. _Just keep talking._

"And then, the crows came and tore everything - everyone - apart." A lump forms in his throat. "We were no match for them, and I... "

His voice drops off.

He slowly unscrews the cap of a water bottle, and takes a drink. The chilled water calms his throat.

The therapist waits.

"Zura was the first one who was captured."

He takes another sip of water.

"After that... it was Takasugi. He'd been fighting four of them at the same time, but eventually even he couldn't hold them off."

His vision gets blurry.

"And then they brought out Sensei, and then we knew what they were trying to do. We didn't need to hear what they said, because... because... "

Now his nose is runny, too. The therapist pushes a tissue box towards him, and he grabs one automatically.

"We knew what they were trying to do. Pick your master, or your friends. But not both. And... and _somebody_ in that group had to know how close I was with Shoyou-sensei, because I was the only one left standing."

He wipes his nose, although by now he knows it's not going to stop.

"I was trying to think of a way to save all of them. And I couldn't - one of my legs had been slashed with one of their poison needles - and I knew that even if I rescued one of them, they'd just kill the others."

"So I... " Gintoki stops, and takes a deep breath. "So I walked up to Shoyou-sensei, and I... "

He's relived this moment thousands, if not millions of times. In his head, in his dreams, and in real life, too, especially when Utsuro had been resurrected.

So why was it so hard to talk about it?

Regardless, he pushes on.

"I was thinking, _I'm sorry_. And I was going to say it to him, and I had my words ready. I walked up to him, and then he turned his head. He looked at me..."

The tissue crumples in his palm.

"He knew what I was going to do, and then he told me something I'd never forgot. He said, _Thank you_."

Gintoki laughs a little bit. "You know I was only seventeen, maybe eighteen at the time?" His palm is shaking. "Anyways, I knew then I had to do it then, otherwise I'd chicken out. So I... "

He makes a gesture with his index finger, running the tip of it across his neck.

"That was why I couldn't tell him all the things I wanted to say. I always thought I was going to come back to him, even if it happened to be in prison, and have all the time in the world to tell him thank you for picking this snot-nosed brat in the middle of fucking nowhere. But I didn't. _Couldn't_."

He lets out a shaky breath. "I was watching his body crumple when Takasugi ran at me. I knew he wanted to kill me. I probably would've let him, to be honest, but then, one of the crows threw a knife at him. So, he ended up with one of his eyes gouged out. After that, the crows finally left. They took his body, though. They left his head for the three of us, as if they were doing us a _favor_... "

All three of them had been too horrified with the events that had happened to protest it at the time.

"Takasugi was knocked out from the blood loss, so Zura bandaged him up as best as he could," Gintoki said, his voice growing more and more hollow. "And I just. Stood there. I couldn't even _look_ at any of them..."

The therapist looks at him, very still. The pen had been laid down a while ago.

Very calmly, she says, "That would have been a normal reaction from anybody, Gintoki. It was a hostage situation."

"Yeah, I guess so," he says. He takes another sip of water. Takes another breath.

He still wasn't finished.

"When Takasugi came to, I knew he wanted to kill me. But for some reason, he wouldn't. He was holding back on me, because he knew he would've done the same thing in my position."

There's a thread sticking out from the armchair that he's sitting on. He picks on it, noting the pattern of the armrest.

"But in the end, he couldn't forgive me. And that was what hurt me the most, because he couldn't escape his feelings - he couldn't forgive himself for letting that happen on his watch. Or me. I thought, maybe he'd understand someday, but he and I... We're the same. If he'd killed our teacher, I would've hated him too. I'm no better than him."

The corner of his lip turns up, ever so slightly. "It took us ten years to talk about it. And I'm glad I did, because he's dead now. They're both dead."

The best he can hope for now is that the two of them are happily reunited in a place he can't reach, even though Gintoki isn't really sure if there's an afterlife out there.

Midori's voice is soft. "I'm sorry to hear about that, Gintoki."

He shakes his head. It's not that he dislikes the apology.

It just didn't matter.

There'd been nothing profound about the loss. Unlike in books and movies, and even the manga he was so terribly fond of, there had been no sudden epiphany to justify the tragedy. The grief had stretched and destroyed lives; it had ensnared him and Takasugi in the direction of nothing but destruction and despair.

But this time, Gintoki will write his own narrative.

He's not just an ex-war criminal, shackled by the chains of history. Nor is he a former prison inmate. Or even a general, good-for-nothing _ronin_.

No.

He's more than that.

He's also a father of two good, strong kids and the best dog anyone could've asked for.

He's a friend to the rich and poor, the loved and the lonely, and to the ones who'd lost anything and everything.

He's a man who is in _love_ , with another real, living being, despite all the walls he'd built around himself in order to keep himself safe.

Sakata Gintoki won't let his past, caged so long by his own silence, control his heart or his soul anymore. And with every word he speaks out loud, he begins to heal - softly, but surely.

* * *

At the end of the session, Midori had upped his dose of antidepressants.

Gintoki went outside of the building. He took a deep breath, letting the chill of it settle into his lungs. The therapist had fixed him a hot cup of tea after it was clear that he couldn't continue with the session any longer, and once she had made sure that he was okay, had ordered him to call someone to take him home.

Tsukuyo was waiting for him. The snow had fallen on the streets, covering it in a blanket of white.

She took a long look at his face, and then without a word, gently brushed the snow from his hair with her hand.

He pulled her into a hug. She smelled like smoke and flowers.

"Are you okay?"

"With you, I will be," he murmured.

\- tbc -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The therapist is named after one of my favorite characters from Norwegian Wood, a novel written by Haruki Murakami. In that book, she also is a healer of the protagonist's spirit who, like Gintoki, suffers from survivor's guilt. 
> 
> I wrote this chapter because I ship Gintoki x Happiness like everyone else, and also because it's wish fulfilment. Do I think it's realistic in the Gintama universe? No. But considering how many mental health problems Gintoki has, I thought him seeking treatment for it instead of his usual methods of self-medication (such as pachinko/alcoholism/reckless endangerment of himself), would be an absolute must if he wanted to stay in a healthy relationship with someone. (Oh, and Sasaki probably has a fund for people who can't afford therapy, which is probably how Gintoki can afford it. *laughs*)


End file.
